


Let's Try This Again, Shall We?

by comedy_of_somaya



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - High School, Amnesia, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author tries to convince herself and 500 internet strangers that she can keep a constant schedule, Fluff and Angst, Hair-pulling, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Limbs, Multi, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not the good kind, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Torture, because we Not About that life, child-selling, ill just stop talking, its fun though, its the obligatory high school au, some light broken bones n shit, sort of???, these tags make it seem worse than it is but im being safe, well the abuse isnt fun but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comedy_of_somaya/pseuds/comedy_of_somaya
Summary: The high school au nobody asked for.Admittedly, it wasn’t the smartest idea Tony’s ever had. In fact, he’s going to go on record that this was the dumbest idea ever.And now he’s lying in a ditch, immobile and dying alone, having abandoned his security detail about a mile back.Well, he’s not dying, but he’s pretty fucking close. Well, if a broken leg counts as close. Cause he’s pretty sure he’s got a broken leg, and he is way too pretty to play Lieutenant Dan.AKA: Tony Stark breaks his leg, Steve Rogers panics from afar, and Bucky Barnes did not sign up for this shit.





	1. Sticks and Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sticks and Stones, Break my Bones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899121) by [comedy_of_somaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comedy_of_somaya/pseuds/comedy_of_somaya). 



> For those of yall who are coming from Sticks and Stones: Welcome back! Fancy seeing yall here!  
> Those of you who are new here, enjoy the ride!

Admittedly, it wasn’t the smartest idea Tony’s ever had. In fact, he’s going to go on record that this was the _dumbest_ idea ever.

 

And now he’s lying in a ditch, immobile and dying alone, having abandoned his security detail about a mile back.

 

Well, he’s not dying, but he’s pretty fucking close. Well, if a broken leg counts as close. Cause he’s pretty sure he’s got a broken leg, and he is _way too pretty to play Lieutenant Dan_.

 

And it’s kind of _really embarrassing_ how he ended up here.

 

“Shit,” he tells his leg, black spots dancing in his vision. He’s not so much bothered by the physical pain as he is the inconvenience of it; his father is going to take this as yet another sign of Tony’s inferiority. That means more security detail, which Tony already thinks the current level is overkill, and more Howard yelling about the _cost, dammit Anthony, I thought you were better than this. Or were my simple standards too_ high _for an_ invalid _like you?_

 

“God fucking shit. Fucking goddamn shit biscuits,” Tony curses. The pain alleviates by like, two percent, so Tony spends the next ten minutes spitting every curse word Howard ever used on an engine at the cracked brick walls.

 

The pain is actually getting worse, though, so all of Tony’s crudeness is for naught; his vision blacks out for a bit, and the next time he hauls himself back into consciousness, he’s being lifted by two thick, muscular arms.

 

If he’s being honest, he panics a little, because he’s the famous son of Howard Stark lying unconscious with a broken leg in a semi-dark alleyway outside what looks like a shitty Mediterranean restaurant in what happens to be the bad part of Manhattan.

 

And Tony _knows_ what good Mediterranean looks like, goddammit. He’s not going to kick the bucket next to shitty off-brand Nish Nush.

 

Also, he’s a high school junior with mental issues and a fucked-up home life. He’s allowed to be reckless, no matter what Rhodey or Pepper say.

 

So he opens his mouth. “Who… the fuck… are _you?”_

 

 _“Tony!_ You’re awake!”

 

And then he’s staring into the wide, blue eyes, _familiar_ eyes, of his ex-boyfriend, Steve Rogers, football champion, and professional life-wrecker. “Are you okay?” he demands.

 

Instead of trying to stay awake and answering, Tony lets himself pass out again.

 

It’s the best option for all parties involved.

#

 

“Wow, I thought this was a high school locker room, but I must’ve accidentally walked into a nursing home. What’s with all the old people?”

 

Steve turns and grins at his best friend. “You know it’s me, Sam.”

 

Sam leans against the door into the locker room, and he’s talking loudly to be heard over the rabble of sweaty football players. Sweat drips slowly down his chocolate chest. Steve is also covered in sweat, but he’s got a reason; Coach Skull always seems to have a personal vendetta against him specifically.

 

Sam holds up his hand for a fist bump, and Steve obligingly bumps it. “Yeah, well, maybe you should try _not_ being super old for a while. ‘Aight, Cap?”

 

“Please,” Steve scoffs. “That comeback was weak.”

 

“Yeah, well I spent my game on _playing_ football _well_ , which you might want to consider, white boy.”

 

“Um, which one of us is Team Captain again? _Consider_ yourself.”

 

“Ouch, what a roast.”

Steve launches his shirt into Sam’s face, laughing. Sam plays it up on his next inhale, breathing extra deeply, then tosses him his shirt back. “Thank you for indulging my sweat kink,” Sam says with an over-the-top wink.

 

Steve hums and crams his stuff in his locker or backpack. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” he says, walking with Sam out the door. He holds his hand up to give Peter Quill a high-five on the way out, and receives a resounding smack on the ass the second his back faces the other boy. At this point, it’s basically routine. Steve’s face doesn’t even turn that red anymore.

 

Steve and Sam walk down the halls in a comfortable bubble of banter. Nobody interrupts them. It’s not that people don’t know Steve Rogers, Football Captain-slash-Longtime Champion, and Sam Wilson, Best Friend of Steve Rogers, it’s just that not a lot of people, and certainly not the general public of SHIELD Academy know them _deeper_ than that. Only close friends know that Steve is going to use his football scholarship, if he gets one, to study art in college, and Sam was going to be a psychiatrist who worked with veterans.

 

It’s enough to make Steve a little lonely, at times, but then he remembers that he’s lucky to be _alive_ , and especially lucky to have-

 

“Heya,” a familiar voice calls from behind them. Steve turns around and smiles as his boyfriend approaches them next to Natasha Romanova.

 

Bucky Barnes wraps a gleaming prosthetic arm around Steve’s waist while the blond lays a kiss on his forehead. “Hey, Bucky,” Steve greets.

 

“Are you driving me home today?” Bucky asks, kissing him.

 

Steve smiles dopily and nods. He can hear Sam and Natasha making gagging noises, but he’s in such a great mood today. Today is a _great day_. The week-long cold front finally broke today, which means soon enough it’s going to be warm enough that Bucky won’t growl about how his metal arm is “freezing his shoulder off, what the fresh hell,” and then putting said frozen fingers on the back of Steve’s neck.

 

Also, warm weather means Bucky starts wearing shorts and crop tops again, and there are obvious reasons why Steve likes _that_.

 

Bucky slaps his chest. “Steve.”

 

He tunes back in. “What?”

 

“I’m tired as fuck.”

 

“You drank the whole pot of coffee today, Buck.”

 

“So fuckin;’ what? I wanna stop by Starbucks.”

 

Steve scoffs. “I’m starting to think you just want Starbucks because it tastes good, not because you’re tired.”

 

“Blasphemy. How dare you.”

 

He knows the real reason Bucky is dragging his return home out; his awful adoptive father, Alexander Pierce, is the biggest douchebag _ever,_ but Bucky is incredibly tight-lipped about his new home life and won’t let Steve go to the authorities about him.

 

Steve does the best he can by keeping Bucky out as long as his curfew can allow, and leaving it alone. But he sure as hell hasn’t forgotten it; when the time is right, he’ll bring it up again.

 

For now, though, he plays along. “Alrighty, then, Prince James, let’s head out.”

 

They say bye to Sam and Nat, then hop into Steve’s small, cramped car. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Bucky sings along to the Top 40’s playlist obnoxiously with the windows rolled down, and only gets louder every time someone honks or yells at them. They end up staying at Starbucks for a while, doing homework or college searching in comfortable silence. When they finally finish, it’s “hella cold out, Steve,” so Steve pulls out his letterman from his backpack and wraps the jacket around his boyfriend.

 

It's a great improptu date. All the good feeling evaporates anyway when they turn into Bucky’s apartment complex and the brunette’s smile slides off his face. He watches the building like a prisoner facing a firing squad and slides out quietly, dying sun illuminating his back. Steve rolls down the window.

 

“Stay safe, jerk.”

 

Bucky smiles tightly. “Will do, punk.” Then he squares his shoulders and walks into the darkened building.

 

Steve’s driving home, lost in thought,  when he sees the body crumpled on the street.

 

At first, he thinks it’s another poor kid who’s been put out of their home, but then he sees the figure’s leg, bent at an unnatural angle, and _then_ he sees the spiky black hair, and he knows _exactly_ who that crumpled mess is.

 

He’s out the car before he even knows what’s happening, gathering his ex into his arms. Tony is cold and shivering, and Steve's careful not to touch the leg, acting out of mindless concern.

 

Tony slurs out something too garbled to be recognizable, and Steve says, “ _Tony!_ You’re awake!”

 

And Tony, unsurprisingly, immediately passes out. _Ever one to avoid feelings, huh, Tony?_ Steve thinks even while dissolving into a panic.

 

Steve eyes the distance to his car and starts pulling Tony’s prostate body towards it.

 

And to think, today had been a good day.

#

 

Tony wakes up in the hospital. He’s been here enough times that he’s grown to recognize the white walls and the nurse that scowls at him whenever he’s here, even though this is _definitely_ a zero-sum relationship, given the wildly unfortunate fact that America doesn’t have free healthcare. Then again, it does appear to be nighttime now, so maybe blond-guy is just pissed at having to take the graveyard shift but. Semantics.

 

His leg is suspended and wrapped in a cast, which means he was right when he guessed it was broken. Just another example of why it fucking _sucks_ when Tony’s right sometimes.

 

“Uh,” Tony croaks. “Hi?”

 

Blond Nurse Guy rolls his eyes so hard they practically bulge out of his skull and leaves the room, only to return two seconds later with Howard Stark trailing him.

 

His father is frowning hard, eyebrows low in disappointment. Tony physically curls into the blank sheets while his father’s severe eyes roam over him.

 

His relationship with the man is distant at best. Howard is a perfectionist, and he refuses to work with anything that goes even slightly wrong. On the other hand, Tony is a _huge_ fuck-up, and he finds himself comfortable working with other things of his kind. Nevermind the fact that Tony finds ‘mistakes’ to be things you can work on, because you can explore them in case there’s something unseen, it’s more about the fact that every achievement Tony gets, Howard has already one-upped him in some way.

 

Tony built an engine at four? Howard could strip and rebuild the whole car.

 

Tony invented a green-energy source that was compact and practically endless? Howard found a way to turn it into weapons capable of slaughtering hundreds in seconds.

 

Tony earned the Genius Child award for seven-through-ten-year-olds at age three? Howard was singlehandedly the reason the award even _existed._

 

Tony _knows_ he’s exceptionally smart, figured it out when all the other kids talked about how hard multiplication was when Tony was already studying quantum physics and the alternate dimension theory. (The same one Howard proved just months later. Yeah, it’s not hard to feel inadequate next to The Great Howard Stark, and especially easy when said Great Howard Stark tells you that you are inferior to your face, thanks a fuckton, dad.) He’s just not smart _enough, and he never will be._

 

It took months of begging and the aid of his mother and Jarvis, back when he was still alive, to convince Tony’s father to let him stay in his grade. Howard was convinced that Starks were not meant to assimilate into the general population. Yeah, well, Tony was going to MIT in the next two years anyway, so _fuck you_ , dad.

 

And it’s _not_ just because he’s a Stark, no matter what Justin Hammer says, the fucking asshole.

 

“Hey, dad, what’s crackin’?” Tony asks, even though he knows his father will just ignore him.

 

Howard does ignore him, as predicted. Instead, the man asks, “How stupid are you?”

 

“Well, that’s subjective,” Tony starts to snark, but he barely gets the first word out. Howard steamrolls over him.

 

“No smartass answers, boy, I’m serious,” Howard barks. “What the hell were you thinking? Are you really _so_ stupid that you tried to leave your security guard? _This,_ Tony, is what happens to people who _act like idiots_ . Jesus, boy, I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t think it went _that far-_ ”

 

Tony tunes out his father at that point. It’s no use anymore, Howard’s only repeating what Tony already knows, so Tony blocks him out and thinks over the chemical roadblock he, Bruce, and Peter had run into the day before, when the middle school boy was at the high school for “tutorials,” which was more aptly named “dicking around with science shit.” At some point, Howard seems to notice Tony’s not paying attention, because he shoots him a glare so full of poison that promises only pain when they get out of the public eye, and then storms out.

 

Maria Stark slinks in after Howard leaves. She barely does more than coo over Tony, which does make him feel a bit better, but doesn’t really do much to quell the verbal lashes Howard gave him. Tony rolls his eyes. Though not as bad as Howard, his mother is pretty helpless, clueless at times, and a hopeless socialite. She didn’t use to be, though. At least, he thinks so.

 

She does make a few comments about his luck, though one catches his attention. “Oh, _bambino,_ you are _so lucky_ that nice boy of yours found you and not some ruffian from the streets.”

 

Tony ignores the slightly classist dig in favor of furrowing his eyes and saying, “Wait… what boy?”

 

Maria blinks. “Uh, it was… um,” she flails. “I might have forgotten his name,” she tells him guiltily.

 

That’s alright, because his mind is already whirling with thought, albeit slower than normal considering the pain drugs he must be on. “The boy,” can only be Steve because it’s the only viable option, considering Steve is the one that found him half dead.

 

Steve, who’s heart Tony broke a year ago. Steve, who moved on and showed up three months later with a foreign assassin (?) cyborg boyfriend.

 

Steve, who Tony still thinks about when he goes to sleep at night.

 

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “Shit,” Tony says, because what the hell else do you say when life won’t stop fucking with you? Why is his luck actually this bad?

 

Maria frowns. “Language, darling.”

#

 

Three days after Steve dropped Tony off at the hospital and reopened the box of carefully untouched feelings, Tony rolls into SHIELD High School on a high-tech wheelchair that looks like he built it himself and sporting a bright red cast.

 

The crowd of teens is beside themselves. People practically threw themselves at Tony to sign his cast, or ask what happened in overly sympathetic voices. Tony drinks it all up, offering a thousand ludicrous stories about what happened while Pepper and Rhodey wait to ambush the genius from the sidelines about _what the fuck happened, Tony_.

 

Steve watches all of this with raised eyebrows. Bucky lets him, senses that Steve needs to not be interrupted right now. It doesn’t stop Bucky from sending him little, concerned glances while he chats with Natasha about their evil ballet teacher.

 

Eventually, Steve allows himself to be pulled back into the conversation. “What’s up?” Steve asks.

 

Natasha turns smoothly, a comforting blankness settled on her features. “What are you staring at Stark for?”

 

Bucky tries to rescue him.  “The guy _broke his leg,_ Nat-”

 

Steve shoots him a tired smile and answers the question honestly. Lying would only make Nat more suspicious. “I’m the one who found him with his leg,” Steve admits.

 

Natasha sits back. “What happened to him?” Her face does nothing to betray the worry Steve knows she feels. Once upon a time, they all used to be a team. Once.

 

Steve tells the truth again. “I don’t know.”

 

Nat stares at the table Tony’s commanding like she’s fixing to walk over, but the bell rings and they all have to go to class. Bucky lays a kiss on his mouth, murmuring, “See you at lunch, punk,” into Steve’s mouth, and then he and Nat stalk to their class.

#

 

Bucky and Natasha have off-campus Physical Education, so Nat drives him in her beautiful bright red car that is _way_ out of her pay grade that she won’t tell where it’s from, dammit, and takes both of them to ballet class every school day and Saturday during eighth period.

 

Bucky seriously thinks these might be the best parts of the day, minus whenever he goes out with Steve.

 

Because, unbeknownst to most people, Natasha is, in fact, a huge gossip.

 

“When do you think Peter Quill will get a date with Gamora?” Bucky asks her, smirking.

 

Natasha laughs. “Don’t you know? He already did.”

 

“Stop playing with me. No shit?”

 

“It’s confirmed. They’re not telling anyone, though.”

 

“How come?”

 

“Gamora’s dad is a _huge_ asshole. They’re trying to keep it secret.”

 

Bucky grunts. “I know what _that_ feels like.”

 

Natasha glances as him, then slowly takes a hand off the steering wheel to grab his prosthetic by the hand, broadcasting every movement. The contact is... nice. Definitely better than he ever got in Russia, and at home Pierce never touches that arm.

 

When they reach their ballet teacher’s studio, the Red Room, their учитель insists on their class performing _The Firebird_ Varganova style, instead of classic style, which means they have to alter practically all of their framework. Natasha prowls along the sides with the most displeased expression humanly possible, blowing one single red curl that escaped her bun out of her face, tutu splayed around her waist.

 

Bucky is one of the two boys in the class, and has the misfortune of being good at ballet, so he so he gets the _absolute honor_ of being dragged around as the lead male.

 

By the time practice ends, his feet have a permanent cramp in them, and his arms are shaking from holding fifth position for so long, but it’s a satisfying pain. Ballet has a way of smoothing out all the noise in his head, taking away all of his anxieties.

 

Natasha rants to him about the switch on the drive back; she’s always been pretty conservative about ballet. Bucky secretly also enjoys modern ballet, but he’s pretty sure Nat would _actually_ murder him if she found out, so he just growls along with her vauge threats to destroy the Red Room.

 

Two minutes before eighth period ends, the duo arrives back at the school. Technically, they don’t _have_ to come back, Principal Fury is familiar enough and exhausted enough with Natasha that “skipping” the end of school would be overlooked. Also, ninth period is only study hall, so it’s not like they would be missing anything. They could go home.

 

But without fail, every day Nat returns them to the school. Bucky knows it’s because she, and Sam, and Steve, want to keep him away from his foster father, and he couldn’t be more grateful, even though it annoys him to all hell. He doesn’t need protecting.

 

He tried explaining all that to Natasha once, on a drive just like this one, and Nat had just laid a gentle hand over his mouth. “I’m not good at emotions,” she’d said, “but just let me have this.” He hadn’t brought it up again. Not while he still owes her so much.

 

A blond-haired boy outfitted with a purple shirt and black jeans jogs up right as Nat slams her door shut. It’s Clint, because of course it is.

 

Bucky holds up his left hand for Clint’s signature fist bump, but Clint leaves him hanging in favor of darting to Natasha and gripping her by the shoulders, a move very few people are comfortable enough to do.

 

“Fuck you too?” Bucky tells the empty air in front of him.

 

Clint ignores him. “Stark’s throwing a party. Saturday.”

 

Natasha’s reply is smooth. “And you know this because…?”

 

“He was in the cafeteria, got a text on his phone, and then stood up and basically announced he was having a party on Saturday. Everyone got excited ‘cause they get more time to fake being nice to him about his leg.”

 

“That sounds like Stark,” Natasha sighs. “Guess I better cancel my Saturday plans.”

 

“Doesn’t this guy have a broken leg?” Bucky asks.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Clint offers. “He’s got Pepper to smother him.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says, dragging out the ‘o’. “Have fun, I guess,” he calls as he starts to walk away. He’s only half mocking.

 

Clint doesn’t even look his way. “You’re coming too, Jamie.”

 

“ _Don’t_ call me Jamie, and _why_ would I go to the party of my boyfriend’s ex?”

 

Natasha huffs at him. “Don’t be a pussy, Jamie. Stark parties are _legend._ Everyone’s gonna be there.”

 

He scowls. “And I look like the type of person to submit to peer pressure to you.” It's not a question.

 

“You’re going,” Clint tells him. It’s not a request.

 

Bucky narrows his eyes and utters his famous last words.

 

“Make me, fucker.”


	2. Cry, cry cry (but I like to party)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever present party scene!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been so absent, I had a *bad* case of writers block, but here it is!

“I can’t fucking believe this.”

 

Natasha pulls away from his face and frowns at him. “Don’t pout. I’m putting on the chapstick.”  
Bucky scowls up at her, refusing to smooth out his face until she taps his cheek not-so-lightly. “I still don’t see _why_ I _absolutely have_ to be at this random party for Steve’s ex.”

 

“You’ll see when you get there.”

 

“Can you hear the sound of me pressing ‘X’ to doubt?”

 

“Steve and Sam are meeting us there,’’ she says, as if it’s supposed to be some sort of incentive. It works on him entirely too well.

 

“You act like its a _good_ thing my boyfriend’s going to a party at his ex’s house.” Bucky argues anyway. “I mean, I get that the guy’s rich ‘n famous, but I doubt he actually throws par-”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes and sets down the most recent thing she’s slathered onto Bucky’s face. The frown on her face has shifted from annoyed to thoughtful several times during the whole experience.  “Are you done, _трус_?”

 

She picks up a mirror and turns it to show Bucky his reflection. He has to admit, she did a pretty good job. Dramatic, dark eyeshadow shades around his eyes, a thick line of eyeliner on his lids makes the icy highlights of gaze pop on his face. A few brushes of pinkish powder streak his cheekbones. Bucky’s not ashamed to say that he’s a _hot person_ , and Nat just enhances it, as per usual party procedure. He gives her a grudging thumbs up.

 

Nat smirks at him, then presses the reverse so they back out of the Sonic parking lot they’ve found themselves in. Bucky trains his gaze on the group of stoners sitting on the curb as he apologizes.

 

“Sorry, Nat. I’ll go to the fuckin’ party.”

 

“That’s the spirit, Jamie.”

 

The glare he levels her with would cause most kids to jump out of the car. Natasha doesn’t even flinch.

 

“James.” She says firmly, “ _Nobody_ misses a Stark party. They are the biggest events that happen in SHIELD Academy. Don’t be a pussy about it. Besides, the _chances_ of you _seeing_ Stark, let alone _talking_ to him, are so small, and this party will be _so much fun_ that it cancels out. Like PEMDAS.”

 

“I saw that meme on Twitter. You’re not original, _вдова_.”

 

“Just keeping you on your toes. Take off your pants.”

 

Bucky slips into casual banter, familiar territory. “I have a boyfriend, sorry.”

 

Nat glares at _him_ this time. “That joke wasn’t funny the first few hundred times, and it’s not funny now.”

 

Bucky’s already wiggling out of his jeans, underneath which he’s got practically skin-tight leggings on. Artfully placed rips show pale skin that should probably be, and definitely used to be, tan. It’s pretty much routine, now, whenever Bucky and Natasha go out to a party or sneak into a bar. They know the drill.

 

During all of this, Bucky comes to the conclusion that Nat does have a valid point. If he _does_ see Stark, he’d never willingly _talk_ to him. Whatever happened between that guy and Steve he does _not_ need to know.

 

And besides, a party’s a party, no matter if it lives up to the hype, which he doubts it will. Bucky’s been to some pretty awesome keggers, and the Russians, if a bit cold and miserable, _know_ how to throw a party.

 

 

#

 

The party, however, _totally_ lives up to the hype. Nat ditches him the second they walk in the doors, strutting off in Soviet heels. Bucky just shrugs and walks the opposite way. They’ve got the party routine down to a practical science these days. Nat can find him if she needs him.

 

Almost immediately he’s pulled into the crowd of sweaty kids high on burning stress and alcohol. And yeah, it’s true, Bucky can see pretty much every kid from school here, and of course kids he doesn’t recognize. Probably from other schools.

 

His first choice, is, of course, to head for the dance floor. Steve has his art, and Bucky has his dancing. The rolling beats of the EDM bullshit finally quiet his mind better than anything else.

 

#

 

“And you’re _sure_ it’s okay?”

 

“Positive, Sam. I’ll be fine,” Steve hums into the phone. It’s crushed between his cheek and shoulder, freeing his hands to fold his laundry. It’s the third time Sam’s asked.

 

“I just-“

 

“Sam,” Steve interrupts firmly. “I will be fine. Riley invited you, go on your date. I’ll see you at the party.”

 

Sam sighed through the line. “Fine. I’ll be there, Steve! You better show up! You need to relax for once, and Stark’s party is the perfect opportunity.”

 

“Okay, _mom._ ”

 

“I mean it! JB’s gonna be there too, so show up.”

 

“I agreed to show up like, twenty minutes ago. No need to keep harassing me.”

 

“Fine. See you, Steve.”

 

“ _Bye,_ Sam.”

 

#

 

“My favorite curse word is hell. I don’t know, it’s just so versatile, it explains all my moods. What the hell, who the hell, why the hell, how the hell… it’s just a lifesaver,” Bucky babbles to a group of complete strangers. They all nod and babble back nonsensically. He’s pretty sure he’s stumbled into a flock of art hoes, but he’s not certain. The lights flash to the beat of the music, and on more than one occasion he’s caught appreciative eyes roaming his body.

After about an hour of dancing, he’d grown tired and sat down amidst the mob waiting to shove a drink into any pretty person’s hands. Bucky had purposefully only accepted sugary drinks. He didn’t care about how ‘girly’ they were, he had a fuckin’ sweet tooth and a lack of interest in appearing heterosexual.

 

At some point, he calls Steve, who’s been ditched by Sam, apparently. He’s pretty sure he screams at the phone, but in his drunken ecstasy, Bucky forgets to remember what he actually says. Steve says something about getting there soon, though. So. It can’t have been bad.

 

#

“What’s your name,” the guy in front of him purrs, shooting for seductive but missing very badly, taking the drink from Bucky’s hands. He frowns. He’d been enjoying that drink.

“Bucky,” he answers crossly. “I have a boyfriend.”

The guy tosses his head back and laughs, even though Bucky can’t think of anything in that sentence that was funny. “I’m Brock Rumlow,” he says, white teeth flashing. Rumlow downs the rest of Bucky’s drink. _Was that supposed to be impressive?_ Bucky thinks grumpily. Then before he can voice his disdain, Rumlow clamps a hand around Bucky’s (right) wrist and starts walking, so Bucky had no choice but to be dragged behind this douchebag, _Brock Rumlow_.

 

#

 

Tony grins sharkily at a particularly stubborn girl. Normally, he’d be more interested; she’s beautiful, tall and feminine, and her hijab shimmers under the lights, but he’s honestly not in the mood for once. His leg is aching, and the heat from a few hundred bodies crushed onto one floor is making him sweaty. That doesn’t mean he’s not having the time of his life.

 

Admittedly, that might be in part due to the few shots he’d tossed back, but. Semantics.

 

This party isn’t impromptu, no matter what anybody said. He’d known that his parents would be taking a _convenient_ emergency trip to Shanghai for three weeks.

 

Not that he’d had anything to do with it, of course.

 

Okay, maybe he did. But they don’t have to know that, and it certainly _is_ an emergency. For his parents, anyway.

 

Anyway, Tony’s had this planned out since _before_ he broke his leg, and now that he has, he’s not _stopping_ it just for some cracked bone. Bones get broken all the time. Life moves on.

 

The girl runs a hand up his arm, giggling plastically. “We’re so compatible, don’t you think?”

 

“Oh, _definitely.”_

 

She glances down at him through stubby eyelashes. “ _Definitely_. You wanna… take this upstairs?” She’s not very subtle, and perhaps a bit drunk.

 

“No. I’m,” Tony sniffs, “not interested.”

 

She glares at him, but drifts away, ultimately not that hurt, muttering, “Fine.”

 

Pepper drifts back over from where she retreated when the conversation started. They stand side-by-side, surveying a crowd of people all vying for their attention.

 

“What was wrong with her?” Pepper asks finally.

 

Tony furrows his brows and glances at his best friend from the corner of his eye. “Nothing? What?”

 

Pepper’s mouth twitches. “No reason.” She waves a manicured hand toward a  random figure slouched on a chair. “That girl over there is pretty cute. What do you think of her?”

 

“She’s okay, I guess.”

 

“What about that guy?”

 

“Eh. He’s _alright_.”

 

“What about that one?”

 

Tony turns to face her fully. “Okay, what are you getting at?”

 

“Tony, you haven’t hooked up with anyone for, like, five _months._ I’m starting to wonder if _you’re_ okay _._ Do you,” Pepper asks, “have like, a secret lover or something?”

 

“Pepper. What the fuck.”

 

“Just a question.”

 

“No! I am not secretly dating anyone. _And_ the doctor said I’m not allowed to ‘participate in any sexual activities.’”

 

“And I’m supposed to believe that the Great Tony Stark just _suddenly_ decided to follow medical advice?”

 

Tony shrugs awkwardly. “I just… don’t feel like playing around right now.”

 

Pepper’s face scrunches, then smoothes out diplomatically. “I’m watching you,” she warns.

 

Tony rolls his eyes and dramatically walks off, leaving Pepper and her stupid owl eyes behind him.

 

#

 

Steve pulls up to the Stark manor on the bike he got for Christmas. He’s really thankful for this bike, because the parking here is atrocious. He’s half an hour behind Sam, and a full hour and a half behind Bucky.

 

His mother had waved him out the door after his final attempt to stay home. He’d done pretty much all the chores in the house in an attempt to have an excuse for not making Tony’s party. Turned out there wasn’t actually a lot of cleaning to do in a 2-bedroom apartment. The place was though.

 

It’s not that he didn’t _want_ to see Tony again. It was that he definitely _did_.

 

Were you supposed to miss your ex this much?

 

The sad part was, Steve hadn’t even been the one that ended the relationship.

 

_Tony’s last message read: We need to talk._

 

_“Not too promising,” Steve said to himself, even as he pushed the door open. Stark manor was a very tech-centered place, by the closer you got to the personal part of it, the less high-tech you found. Of course, Tony’s room was the exception: the young genius had plenty of equipment in his room._

 

_Tony was facing away from the door when Steve walked in, sitting on the bed quietly._

 

_“Tony. You wanted to talk?” Please don't let it be what Steve is thinking it is..._

 

_Tony doesn’t turn to look at him. “Hey, Steve.”_

 

_Steve leans to the side in an attempt to get within Tony’s line of sight. No dice. “Yeah, Tony? You texted me?”_

 

_“Don’t get mad,” Tony whispers._

 

_So it is what he thinks it is. “No promises. What is it, Stark?”_

 

_He breathes out heavily. “I think we should break up.”_

 

_There is a dead silence until Steve says lowly, “I thought I told you I needed a reason."_

 

_“I’m still not over what I did to you, Steve!” Tony finally whips his head around to stare at him. His bright eyes are dull and red, and tear lines run down his cheeks._

 

 _Steve has to clamp down on the wave of emotion that threatens to overtake him. . “Tony, you_ know _that I’ve forgiven you for that, and everything turned out fine, so why won’t you_ drop it _?” The last part comes out as a growl._

 

_“Because it was a fucked up thing to do, Steve!” Tony almost shouts. The, quieter, he admits: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, my life, or my luck, and I don’t… I want to be with you until I figure it out. Sorry, Steve, you’ll see: this is for the best.”_

 

 _“_ Never. _Tony? Tony, get back here!”_

 

And a year later, Steve is returning to the scene of the crime. It’s almost as if Stark Manor has some sort of pull to it, no… as if _Tony_ had some sort of pull to him. Even though they’d been broken up for almost a year now, and Steve had Bucky, what happened with Tony was… bad. Steve’s still sorting out his feelings, but he desperately wishes he got closure. Maybe this party would be the opportunity to do that.

 

#

 

An hour in, Bucky still has no idea where Steve is, but that’s okay. The therapist he’s secretly been talking to online says he needs to not depend on one person so much.

 

He ditches Rumlow after a while, probably around the third time the guy steals the drink out of his hands.

 

It’s a pretty awesome party though. So he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when the panic attack jumped him.

 

All it takes is someone stroking his prosthetic and Bucky spins wildly out of control. All of a sudden, the warmth of the crowd becomes suffocating. His throat closes up so fast black spots dance in his vision.

 

_Mission critical._

 

Bucky breaks away from the girl he was dancing with (He’s pretty sure it was Darcy Lewis? Maybe?) and stumbles through the crowd. Somebody grabs his (left!) shoulder, accidentally tugging on his hair, and Bucky almost crashes to the floor in his panic. The voices around him sound simultaneously muffled and _very loud._

 

Eventually, he makes it out of the crowd and runs at a dead sprint to... _somewhere_ quiet. Despite him being… not exactly sane right now, Bucky makes it to what looks like a broom closet.

 

 _Imagine being so rich your house has a broom closet,_ Bucky thinks even as he frantically bites at his lip. His chest is heaving. The air reaching his lungs is not enough. An embarrassing whimper escapes his mouth, and Bucky claps a hand over his it. Then he wonders why he did that.

 

It’s so _stupid._ It’s been almost half a _year_ since he got back from Russia, and he’s still freezing up at the shittiest stuff. He hasn’t had a panic attack in almost a full week. He thought he was over this, goddammit!

 

Before he can even blink, much less dissolve into an introspective panic, the door _whoosh_ es open and Tony Stark waltzes in, because life is _just_ like that.

 

#

 

Since he stormed off without a destination in mind, it’s only fair, he supposes, that Tony ends up heading toward the lab. It’s the only place other then his room in his house that Tony feels comfortable in.

 

He passes by one of the broom closets and hears a noise.

 

Typically, Tony would avoid closed closets, for obvious reasons. But… that noise… wasn’t like the sound of horny high-schoolers, it was… different. Certainly sadder. It doesn’t _sound_ like a sex-thing. Tony approaches the door and reaches for the handle.

 

And besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. There’s nothing sexual that can shock him nowadays.

 

Looking back, busting up a hookup might’ve been easier.

 

When the door opens, Tony finds himself face to face with one James Fucking Barnes, pale and shaking. The long-haired boy has all but barricaded himself in the corner. The face Barnes is making reminds Tony of having a panic attack. Even so, Tony can’t help but notice that he’s _very_ pretty.

 

In his shock, Tony reels backward, and his back slams into the door.

 

Tony’s mouth moves for him. “Uh. Hi.” He very nearly smacks his own face. _Smooth, Tony._

 

Nevertheless, Tony creeps forward, despite the fact that Barnes is glaring at him pretty dangerously, obviously on the verge of a panic attack, and the fact that, _oh yeah, that’s my ex’s boy._

 

But it seems pretty shitty to just leave the guy there, so.

 

“Hey,” Tony murmurs, feeling pretty out-of-character. “Hey, let’s chill out here.”

 

Barnes snarls at him. The whites of his eyes gleam menacingly. Tony’s starting to wonder if it would really be so bad to just… bolt. But at the last second, Barnes’ head drops and a pitiful, high pitched whine escapes him.

 

“I need you to calm down, okay?” Tony says, quoting Pepper whenever she found Tony in the throes of a panic attack. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

 

#

 

It’s kinda worrying, but Steve can’t find Bucky anywhere.

 

He does run into Sam, though.

 

Steve doesn’t see his best friend until Sam practically crashes into him. “Steve!” Sam announces loudly, pretty much falling into Steve’s arms for a loose hug, hands roaming.

 

“You’re here!” Sam crows, not at all quieter.

Steve chuckles disbelievingly. “Are you drunk? Already?”

 

“Yeah, man!” Sam slurs, “‘S really gooooood…” Steve attempts to get a better grip on him, but Sam punches his chest (repeatedly) insistently. It doesn’t hurt, but for Sam’s sake Steve stops and asks, “What?”

“I wanna play pool!”

“ _What_ ?” 

Sam stares at him like _he’s_ the one being a complete idiot. The effect is ruined by his eyelids drooping slightly. “Pool, white boy. I know you know what it is.” 

“I _know_ what pool is, I just don’t understand why you want to play it _now._ And I’m still looking for Bucky.” 

“C’mon, man,” Sam nudges him, probably harder than he intends, “ _Please?_ Just _one_ round of pool. ‘N then you c’n find JB.” 

There really isn’t an easy way out of the situation. Steve has never been able to think his way out of things as easily as Natasha or Clint. Grimacing, Steve follows the dark-skinned boy as Sam stumbles his way towards the pool table.

#

“If you can get this ball into the socket, you win,” Sam promises, leaning hard against the pool table, pawing at the red 3-ball clumsily.

Steve shakes his head and grins. He himself is just a little bit tipsy. “And _when_ I win, you have to sit down, flyboy. Don’t know why anyone ever let you near a drink.” 

“I dunno, man.” Sam says, ignoring the last part of Steve’s sentence entirely, “you’ve had a couple a’ drinks. Don’t think I ain’t see that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and lines up the cue. “Says you. You know I’m not a lightweight anymore, and _I_ only had _one_ drink.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow. “ _Suuure_ , Cap.” 

Steve scoffs. He really _had_ taken only one drink, and it hadn’t even been very strong. He was trying to keep one eye looking out for Bucky, but Bucky could be pretty elusive when he wasn’t paying attention. Just another strange thing that had come back with his best friend after eight years of being missing. 

He hit the 3-ball and it, in fact, does go in. Sam stares at it as if it had personally betrayed him. 

Steve prompts, “You have to sit down now, Sam.”

Sam collapses bonelessly onto the nearest couch, startling Hope Van Dyne, and consequently, Scott Lang. Steve grins satisfactorily. Now he can go look for-

 

Fingers tap his shoulder. Steve turns around, and there’s _Bucky_ , flushed in the face, strange red jacket wrapped around his shoulders, and obviously stressed.

 

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, “I need to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall know the drill, comments, kudos, offerings of solid gold chariots, the usual\  
> *EDIT* Fixed some continuity errors, whoops!


	3. hold me tight (or don't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished it!!! Was in San Francisco this week and got the inspiration i needed to finish,,, sorry yall had to wait forever and a half.

That’s kind of where it starts. Definitely a good starting place, for when this whole thing began. 

 

_ Then: _

 

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” Stark suggests lowly. His bright red jacket is brilliant against the dim closet. It looks warm. Bucky’s fucked-up brain takes a special interest in this fact.

 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know why he’s still here. He should’ve bolted by now. Protocol demands- but Protocol's no longer in action.

 

“Got any siblings?” Stark tries when he doesn’t answer. 

 

Siblings. Bucky’s pretty sure he had. Sisters? A sister? But if he had a sister, where was she?  _ I don’t know anymore _ . Had she even been around for Russia, if she even existed? Was she dead? Was she just a figure of his imagination, same as all the years before Pierce found him, a mess of reality and dream with no way of differentiation? 

 

And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? He’s had seven years of normal life stolen from him by _nine_ years of Project Winter. He can remember flashes and glimpses, but most of what he knows about who he is/was comes from Steve telling stories about the Bucky Barnes he’d known during second grade. He doesn’t even know where his goddamned _family_ is _._ He can feel himself tumbling into darkness, flail _ing, falling, plummeting-_

 

“Okay, cool, let’s stay away from the family questions. You do any… sports?”

 

For reasons Bucky will never understand, his  _ dumbass  _ brain decides to answer that. 

 

“Ballet. Gymnastics. Martial arts. Back in Russia,” he pants. Stark looks shocked that Bucky even answered at all, which, to be fair, Bucky is also feeling pretty shocked over it too. 

 

Tony recovers quicker. “That's good! That's good, great, why don’t you tell me where you are right now.”

 

“Stark Manor,” Bucky says automatically.

 

“Good,” Tony says, probably aiming for soothing, and  _ somehow  _ managing it. “Tell me what the date is.”

 

“January 29th.” 

 

“What day of the week is it?”

 

“…Saturday.”

 

At this point, Bucky's pretty much completely calmed down. His breathing is steady, and he's relaxed, his muscles unclenched, the only physical sign of his distress is that he can feel that his eyes are still dilated and he's shivering. 

 

That last one isn't a new occurrence for him; ever since he got back from Russia he's never been able to warm up on his own. He's always needed some sort of help, be it Steve’s constant touch or Nat wrapping him in the ever-convenient jacket she somehow manages to always have on hand. It's just the way he is after Project Winter. He supposes it'll be that way for the rest of his life.

 

Surprisingly, Tony seems to pick up on it. The guy is just a fucking box of  ‘unexpected.’ Understanding dawns in his dark eyes, and  _ ever so slowly, _ he takes off the red jacket he's wearing. Broadcasting every movement, he slowly, very slowly, hands it to Bucky.

 

His hands (biological  _ and  _ metal this time) grab the jacket faster than he can even think, and wraps it around his body. The space in the closet shrinks; it’s just him, and Tony, and the weight of all of Bucky’s _ fucking _ problems. Bucky blinks up at Tony with confusion and gratitude, but Stark seems to miss the message.

 

“Good job, Bucky Barnes,” Stark says softly, “and you can keep the jacket if you want. I've got more. Stay in here as long as you need, alright? No shame.”

 

Then he backs out of the closet, only opening the door enough to let just the slightest bit of music in. And then he’s gone.

 

_ Huh _ . 

 

Now obviously, Bucky is flabbergasted. He's completely confused as to  _ what  _ the _ fuck  _ just happened. It possibly takes him a solid 20 minutes (he loses track of time) to start attempting to stand up again, leaning against the wall for support.

 

“What the hell,” he whispers to the empty air and the mop beside him. Who the fuck knew Steve’s ex-boyfriend could be  _ so good _ at… that? 

 

When the headache he has is almost completely gone, Bucky slips out the door. The music isn't playing, but some middle-aged DJ is announcing his newest track, which is pretty loud, but not as loud as the EDM music has been all night. Bucky stumbles through the rooms until he comes upon the game room, and finally,  _ finally, _ his eyes latch onto Steve’s broad back. 

 

Steve's not looking at  _ him _ though; he's busy talking to Sam, and Bucky is  _ too fucking tired  _ to try to fight the noise of the crowd and call him over.

 

He stumbles across the room, barely managing to make it over to where Steve, the beautiful bastard, is standing. He taps Steve’s shoulder, and when he turns around, Bucky practically falls into his arms. 

 

“Steve,” he gasps, “We need to leave.” 

 

* * *

That’s probably where it started. Probably where it should’ve ended, but definitely where it started.

 

When the party is over, and all of the guests have left, Tony all but shoves out the Saturday cleaning staff and brings out the cleaning bots his father scoffed at two weeks ago. Jokes on that bastard, they do a much more efficient job. Then he switches the flashy wheelchair he’d used all night for his crutches. 

 

After he’d left Bucky in the closet, Tony had floated around his party, making half-hearted conversation and downing shots by the metaphorical gallon. No way in  _ hell  _ would he admit it, but talking Bucky Barnes through a panic attack made him feel, and here’s where it gets weird,  _ emotions.  _

 

Him! Tony Stark! It’s ridiculous!

 

And  _ yes _ , part of the situation was because seeing someone in the throes of a panic attack  _ did _ create some… unease in him, but a much  _ larger  _ problem was that, dear Lord, Bucky Barnes is  _ cute. _

 

Ridiculous!

 

Hulking, dark, and grumpy, yes, but in a way that made the boy look more like a murderous kitten. Like Carol Danvers’ cat. Large blue eyes, squared and clenched jawline, dark brown hair that constantly swept into the guy’s eyes; the second Tony had laid eyes on the kid he’d felt super bad for him. It was like the first time he’d talked,  _ really talked _ , to Peter and gleaned his Traumatic Backstory. Neither of them, no matter  _ who  _ they were or were not dating, deserved that shit. And  _ nobody _ that young should have a  _ fucking prosthetic arm.  _

 

He walks back towards his room with his mind full of thoughts along that stream of consciousness, and so he misses the obvious signs near his room. When the door slides open, his room is pitch black. That never happens. 

 

“Hello? JARVIS?”

 

The lights click on, and so do the ten different screens Tony has in his room. Rhodey and Pepper swivel around on his bed to look at him. 

 

“What the fuck is this?” The door slides closed behind him.

 

“Tony,” Pepper smiles. “Hi. Come in.”

 

Tony shoots a glare at Rhodey, _coward_ , and his best friend only offers him a shrug and some raised eyebrows. 

 

“This is an interrogation, isn’t it?” Tony accuses. 

 

Pepper doesn’t deny it and cuts straight to  _ her  _ question. “What happened to your leg, Tony?”

 

“And don’t try to sell us the same bullshit you gave everyone else, man,” Rhodey interjects.

 

Tony clenches his jaw and shifts back, trying and failing to subtly move his crutches. “I tripped. I told you this.”

 

Rhodey repeats flatly, “You tripped.” 

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

Pepper  _ humph _ s and walks over, taking the highly unnecessary second to pause and squint down into Tony’s eyes (Curse his pathetic height!), and then leans out the door, which magically parts for her immediately. “Get in here,” she calls into the hallway.

 

“Who is  _ that?” _

 

“Pepper,” Rhodey says, “knew you wouldn’t give us a straight answer, so we enlisted… a little help.” Pepper glides back into the room, wearing a satisfied smirk. Goddamn, but she is  _ evil. _

 

Fast footsteps sound through the walls. A high voice, a  _ familiar voice,  _ muffled through the door, calls cheerfully, “Mr. Stark!”

 

Tony whips around to stare at his two dedicated friends, his ride-or-dies, his  _ utter betrayers.  _ “You didn’t.”

 

“Oh,” Pepper snickers, “we did.”

 

Two seconds later, it’s the middle-schooler himself, Peter Fucking Parker, in all his adorable glory. Complete with the nerdiest science pun t-shirt known to man, a hot mess of brown curls stacked on his head, and the biggest anime eyes Tony’s ever seen, Peter’s decked out in prime puppy-dog attire, and everyone in the room knows it.  _ Dannazione. _

 

“Hey, Tony!” Peter greets. He tries to say some more, but he gets cut off. 

 

“Nice try,  _ Brutus,”  _ Tony seethes weakly, “but I’m not telling you people  _ jack.” _

 

Peter pouts, sticking out his bottom lip unashamedly. His eyes get like, 200% larger. 

 

Tony spills his guts like a goddamn fish. 

 

As it turns out, Tony’s pupil is a better at blackmail than he expected, because Tony ends up talking about not  _ just  _ how he broke his leg and ended up an inadvertent damsel-in-distress of one Steven Grant Rogers, but  _ also  _ how he found himself in Seven Minutes Of Therapy with Steven Grant Rogers’ boyfriend. He carefully skirts around his attraction to Bucky. 

 

“You two need to fucking  _ talk,” _ Rhodey says disdainfully. 

 

Tony just sighs. “Yeah,” He grumbles, “I know.”

 

All week, Tony and Bucky dance around each other. They make on-and-off eye contact at lunch, and all of a sudden Bucky’s everywhere in the halls. No joke, they pass each  other  _ four times _ each day. Last week Bucky Barnes was just another head of hair in the cafeteria. Now Tony’s starting to feel a little hunted. 

 

Bucky breaks first, Thursday afternoon. After a boring lab in Chemistry that Tony could do in his sleep, Tony heads to his locker, and when he closes the locker, he practically has a heart attack. 

 

It’s  _ Bucky,  _ looking almost as uncomfortable and out of his comfort zone and  _ pretty  _ as he looked in that closet. He’s  _ also  _ holding Tony’s red Stark jacket in a death grip. 

 

Bucky shoves the jacket at him. “Here’s your jacket.”

 

“...Thanks.” Tony accepts it. There’s an awkward pause. Kids in the hallway stare. 

 

Bucky’s biological hand  drifts toward his metal arm. “And… uh, I wanted to. Thank you. For. Saturday.”

 

“...No problem.”

 

The long-haired boy still fidgets. He still wants to say more, he can tell. Tony takes pity on him the only way he knows how. “Did you want to talk about it later?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. “Later. I’ll give you my number.”

 

* * *

Football practice the Thursday after the party is especially easy. All they do is run a bunch for the whole hour while Coach Skull screams at them. That leaves Steve’s mind open to process what has been going on lately. Because  _ something  _ is going on. 

 

Bucky’s been… off, ever since the party. Steve can put two and two together enough to realize he must’ve had a panic attack, but this one left him really shaken. Sunday he didn’t call, which, yeah, might’ve been Pierce being an asshole and taking his phone away, but he also never responded to the texts Steve sent him after mass, even though Bucky clearly has his phone today. 

 

There’s also the matter of the red jacket.

 

Bucky is in love with jackets. He’s permanently cold, and so there’s no greater gift to the brunette than blankets, pillows, fuzzy socks, and jackets. 

 

The big STARK INDUSTRIES on the back of the red one Bucky has worn today and at the party is kinda hard to miss. 

 

Steve’s not stupid. Somehow, Bucky is talking with Tony. And it most likely started at the party. 

 

The volleyball girls drift near them, doing their own running exercises. Carol Danvers strikes out, speeding up slightly to keep up with him. Her ponytail catches the sunlight in  blonde streaks and a plaid jacket is tied around her waist. “What’s up, Cap?” she calls.

 

“Nothing much, Cap,” Steve replies with an easy grin. As the leads of Shield Academy’s two star sports teams ever since teams were tryout-based, the whole school had envisioned them together for a long while during middle school. While Steve did lean to that side of the spectrum as well as the other, he’d always seen Carol as more of a really great friend, and the feeling was reciprocated. Of course, then it was revealed that Carol has an off-campus girlfriend, Maria, and Steve dated both Tony and Bucky, so the school population eventually stopped trying to shove them in closets together. 

 

“Saw your boys talking to each other,” Carol says, deliberately casual. 

 

Steve asks the question even though he has a pretty good idea and a pretty bad feeling of what she’s talking about. “Who?”

 

“Stark. And Barnes.”

 

Oh, dear  _ God _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you see any mistakes, pls point them out this is NOT beta'd lol)  
> Kudos, comments, mortal sacrifices, anything !!


	4. Four AM in the Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hiding behind a wall* hey guys! crazy how late this is, right? can you believe? *ducks a pitchfork* but it’s almost summer! hopefully i’ll be able to update quicker! *dodges a flaming arrow*

The Friday they arranged to ‘talk about it’ arrives, too soon, and yet excruciatingly slowly. Bucky asks That is the Bastard Pierce if he can go out for the evening, and he  _ agrees _ , smiling in the sickly sweet way that never fails to send dread crawling down Bucky’s spine. He just thanks his stars that Nice Pierce has decided to come out today. 

 

They end up meeting at the corner of Lafayette Avenue, right next to PS 25. When they see each other, it’s literally like a reverse duel-- they walk toward each other like they’re in slow motion. Tony Stark across from him is armed with a red boot shielding his injury, while Bucky has his Arm, a weapon in both physical and social fights.

 

For the latter, of course, it’s almost always used against him.

 

Oh yeah, and Tony’s carrying The Jacket. Just like last time, Bucky’s eyes zero in on it. It’s his own fucking fault for wearing a tank top and shorts in New York. He hates the cold, but he’s also a bit of a narcissist-- he can’t help choosing outfits that make him look good. And he knows he looks  _ fine.  _ The plot thickens, yadda yadda yadda.

 

Bucky offers a stiff “hello,” when they reach each other, and Tony snorts and snatches his hand, talking about a mile a minute. 

 

Walking up and down Manhattan streets, Tony and Bucky keep up a fun little chatter, carefully avoiding any important topics. Bucky uses the time to try to get into the head of the other boy, and he doesn’t doubt the little genius is trying to crack him open as well. 

 

It’s weird; he can’t get a read on the guy. It’s like Tony oscillates, going from using his sizable intelligence to psyche Bucky out, to suddenly covering up how much he is able to infer, presumably to make Bucky underestimate him, or be more comfortable in the conversation. 

 

Tony’s  _ very _ good at mental defense. It’s a strange limbo, a not-so-gentle verbal tug-of-war they’re playing, and Bucky’s actually not sure who’ll win.

 

The thing is, talking with Tony is  _ fun.  _ His brain makes fast connections and leaps between subjects in ways that would confuse the fuck out of most people, unless you knew to ignore the surface chatter and look for the deeper meaning. Luckily for Bucky, he’s had plenty of experience with people making speeches at him full of hidden meanings, so he’s basically golden in the How To Communicate With Super Geniuses category. 

 

Admittedly, he’d been expecting horror stories and a douchebag of epic proportions. He’d arrived in the U.S. after Steve and Tony’s breakup, but every account of what happened was the stuff of relationship nightmares; public fights, vicious text conversations, schedule changes, and yet, nobody seemed to know the original issue. He’d heard everything from cheating to straight-up murder, and not even Natasha seemed to have an answer.

 

Of course, he happened to know the source material, ‘lotta good that did him. Whenever he brought up the curiosity surrounding Steve’s past relationship up to Steve, the blond boy simply said they’d “had a misunderstanding,” and refused to say any more, despite Bucky trying out  _ all  _ the ways Pinterest  _ guaranteed  _ would make someone spill a secret (without resorting to torture, Bucky’s had quite enough of that, thanks).

 

Despite Tony being rich as fuck, Bucky actually has to  _ drag  _ him away from cheap, hole-in-the-wall shoeboxes that look like rat poison is their primary spice. Tony tends to gravitate toward cheeseburgers and other sandwich-type foods, fake-pouting when Bucky tells him to look for a healthier choice.

 

( _“C’mon,_ _Jamie,_ Whataburger has good food, good people, good atmosphere, the whole shebang-” 

 

“Don’t call me that. I once saw someone get stabbed in a Whataburger.” 

 

“...Y’know, it’s funny, you make these  _ horrifying  _ statements with such a deadpan face that I’m never actually sure if you’re kidding or not.” 

 

“I’m not. The blood got in one guy’s burger and the kid behind the counter told him it was ketchup.”

 

“ _ Ew. _ Did he eat it?”)

 

(“What about Sonic?”

 

“It’s like you’re  _ asking  _ for early death.”

 

“I’m here for a good time, not a long one. And what’s wrong with Sonic?”

 

“Jesus, Stark.”)

 

Finally, Bucky gives into an okay-looking shawarma restaurant that they might not actually die in. Looking through the window, they discover that this joint is medium sized, got about nine tables scattered artfully on a cherrywood floor, and then the walls are lined with booths. Good enough.

 

Tony grins at him, defenses up in his eyes. “Shall we?” he asks as he swings the door open. 

 

Another thing Bucky’s been noticing all night, of increasing interest to him; he and Tony are similar, but also very different. It’s obvious as Bucky observes both himself and Tony walk inside the restaurant. Tony steamrolls in, commanding all attention, loud and extremely  _ present _ . Bucky knows he slips in quietly, knows that stealth is basically programmed into his very neurons. They both, however, walk in like people with things to hide, masks to wear, and a wariness for everyday interactions.

 

In that, Bucky and Tony are similar where Steve is not. They’re both broken, it’s easy to see once you’re looking. They’re both blinded by Steve’s beacon of goodness-- and both of them are trying to deal with the fact that nobody,  _ not a damn body, _ and especially not  _ them,  _ can measure up to Steve. 

 

That’s why it’s so easy to fall in love with Steve, he’s so nice, and accepting, and honorable, that it’s impossible  _ not _ to fall in love with him in some form or fashion. Even before Bucky had any idea who he was, when he’d just arrived back from Russia, he’d trusted Steve.  _ Of course _ Tony would work well with Steve, everybody did. Didn’t hurt that the now-football captain had grown into his body better than any kid Bucky’s ever seen.

 

And, Bucky can see what would make Steve fall in love with Tony Stark. He’s cute, in an arrogant, mad-scientist way. Tony had deep brown eyes that looked black in some lights, and golden in others, and his hair falls in soft curls that would probably feel great to run hands through. Plus, the guy’s got a way of being both irritating and compelling. Tony’s intelligent, curious, sarcastic and blunt in the same instant. And Steve’s obviously got a type, Bucky can see all that in himself.

 

And that… that makes them more similar than Bucky’s sure what to do with. 

 

That makes Tony someone Bucky keeps coming back to, despite the circumstances of their… awareness… of each other. 

 

The waiter comes up beside their table, smiling fakely. He doesn’t blame her-- at seven in the evening, the tiny place is packed.

 

“What can I get you?” she asks tiredly.

 

Tony clears his throat and rattles off a long, semi-complex order. When the waitress turns toward Bucky he picks the first thing on the menu that seems non-complicated. Their waitress scribbles down the order and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two boys to stare at each other.

 

“Well, this is fun,” Tony says, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that he magically conjured from nowhere.

 

“Why’d you want to talk to me,” Bucky asks softly.

 

Tony clicks away at icons on his watch, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I wanted to check out the hype around Steve’s new boyfriend, y’know, when he’s not hyperventilating.”

 

Bucky fixes him with a sarcastic glance from behind the curtain of his hair. “Well, now you’ve checked him out. Happy?”

 

Tony  _ hmm _ s under his breath. “Not quite yet.”

 

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond to that, but it’s okay, because the food arrives. 

 

The food arrives, and it’s beautiful. Turns out Bucky’s ordered a chicken shawarma salad, and the steam rises tantalizingly off the dish. Tony’s got a basket of three wraps, equally delicious-looking. 

 

Of course, Bucky hasn’t eaten breakfast at home for the past seven years and counting, so he’s starving by now. The conversation effectively put to death, the long-haired boy digs in. 

 

Tony’s eyes lock onto Bucky grabbing his fork. More specifically, Tony watches Bucky use the Arm to pick up the fork. 

 

“Jesus, what is this, 2013?” Tony grouses, gently grabbing Bucky’s arm and tugging it across the table so he could better admire it, stopping the other brunette from eating. “I could make a better arm than this in two minutes. Amateurs.”

 

Bucky mind screeches to a halt. Tony’s fingers grip his left arm, securely. He’s never had his arm touched like that before. His face is hot.

 

His mouth opens and shuts. Finally, the words fly out rushed and sputtered, like an idiot, “You... you’re not… afraid of my arm.”

 

“Well, duh. It’s just metal.” Tony gives him a weird glance, and Bucky tries to sink down in his chair.

 

“I-- okay,” Bucky murmurs. 

 

Tony goes back to his food, but then his eyes flick up, seemingly unable to ignore the new subject of conversation. Bucky watches Tony watch the lights reflect off his arm with a thoughtful expression on his face.

 

Tony speaks suddenly, “Hey, does that thing hurt you? At all?”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just, the way it’s designed is  _ so  _ inefficient, it seems like it causes harm to your shoulder joints.”

 

As a matter of fact, the Arm  _ does  _ hurt-- all the time. But the same way a more muscle hurts, if he ignores it, it sinks into the background of his mind. The fact that Tony can see that-- if he can see past Bucky’s mask, or even simply has the pure mechanical knowledge to understand the Arm-- it’s alarming.

 

Seeing Bucky’s stricken expression, Tony backs off. “But that’s just speculation, of course, without an in-depth inves-“

 

Bucky sighs and avoids all eye contact. “It was there when I woke up in Russia. It’s the first thing I remember in  _ Rossiya _ .”

 

Tony goes quiet while Bucky fidgets in his seat. After a few beats, he says, “well... if you want, you don’t have to use that. I’ve made a lot of stuff, making a prosthetic that won’t hurt you won’t be too hard.”

 

“Yeah. Maybe,” Bucky says.

He’s lying. He’ll never let anyone near his arm again. 

 

\---

 

Bucky Barnes is… different from what Tony’s been expecting. Quiet and curious, he’s wildly different from Tony, but also very much different from Steve. 

 

“--What is  _ that?” _

 

Tony looks up from his smartwatch, startled. Bucky’s eyes have latched firmly to his watch.

 

Tony glances at his watch, where JARVIS is displayed, still listening for a command. “It’s an AI. I made him a few years ago.”

 

Bucky’s eyes shine. On anyone else’s face, it would’ve seemed like a blank, if a bit bored expression, but an uncanny trait of Bucky’s (highly attractive, what, he’s not  _ blind _ ) face was that it was consistently smooth, consistently blank, rarely revealing what the long-haired boy is thinking. 

 

Lucky thing Tony’s always been good at reading expressions. 

 

“You  _ made  _ that?” Bucky asks.

 

“Uh? Yeah? It’s actually connected to his database back home, but this is the pocket version so he can travel around with me. Not nearly as intelligent as the central body, but, you do what you can.”

 

“That’s incredible. That’s amazing,” Bucky says softly. 

 

“...Thank you.”

  
  


Dessert comes out, then. Some French pastry for Tony, and a warm  _ Bougatsa  _ for Bucky. They bite into their dishes at the same time, and both boys let out moans of delight. 

 

“Wow, ju- just wow,” Tony mumbles around the crust in his mouth.

 

“That’s good as hell.”

 

“Dear god, I’m gonna have a food baby,” Tony says, sinking in his seat.

 

Bucky snorts. “That’s weird. You’re weird.”

 

“So are you, Gangster Gennedy. Takes one to know one.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a strange expression, amusement gone, “Yeah, it does. We’re both weirdos. Two peas in a pod.”

 

“ _ Si, signore.  _ What’s your point. _ ” _

Bucky shrugs, gaze fixed outside through the windows. He doesn’t say anything, but Tony can guess as to what he’s thinking.

  
  


“You and I,” Tony says, leaning in, “we’re not like Rogers. We’re cut from a completely different cloth than him.”

 

Bucky’s ice-blue eyes gleam. “And ‘s a good thing, too. The punk doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation. We keep him safe. Not easy to do.”

 

“You can say that again,” Tony snorts. “One time, Steve tried to jump off the bleachers, like, the  _ top  _ of the bleachers, it was hilarious-”

 

Bucky smirks dangerously. “Oh,  _ did  _ he now?”

 

Tony walks out of the restaurant crushing harder on Bucky then ever before. 

 

Bucky walks out with the jacket.

 

—-

 

Bucky’s shitty foster father actually lets him use a phone, which is all the better for him, Steve thinks as he lies on his bed with Bucky on facetime on his phone’s screen. 

Bucky’s got his hair up, wearing an oversized black tee. Steve’s in his pajama pants, without his shirt, and his hair is still damp from the shower. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Steve greets. “I’ve missed you lately.”

 

Bucky snorts. “You literally saw me yesterday, punk.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re hiding something from me,” Steve insists. He’s only half playing. Carol’s words about Bucky and Tony talking are still in the back of his mind, 

 

“Oh, you poor baby.” Bucky sticks his bottom lip out in fake sympathy. Then his face smooths out. “I’ll tell you later, okay? I’m still trying to figure it out. But first… Can you tell me why you broke up with Tony Stark?”

 

Steve sighs. “Bucky, you know we just had a misunderstanding.”

 

“About  _ what, _ ” Bucky presses.

 

“Nothing. It was stupid, just something silly he did, and he overreacted and… dumped me. Doesn’t matter anymore. Hey, Bucky,” Steve says when Bucky’s expression turns pensive, “I’m dating  _ you  _ now. Not Tony.”

 

“Would you?” Bucky asks.

 

Steve scrunches his eyebrows together. “Would I what?”

 

“Date Stark.”

 

“No!” The word explodes out of his chest, scraping every one of his ribs. He’s lying, and both of them know it. “Bucky, c’mon, Tony doesn’t even like me that way anymore. It’s over with him, okay? You don’t have to be jealous.”

 

“I’m not,” Bucky says, “‘m not  _ jealous.  _ Jesus, Stevie.”

 

Steve pauses. “... okay. Why’re you asking about Tony, then?”

 

“Because,” Bucky says, hair glinting like a halo framing his face. “You’re still in love with him, and he’s still in love with you, and I’m starting to really think he’s a pretty swell fella.”

 

Yeah. That.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall know the drill, comments, kudos, offerings of solid gold chariots, the usual  
> check out my tumblr at @kosi-on-the-draw


	5. imma make a toast cuz we still alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter does contain some potential triggers!! I updated the tags to include everything, but please be safe!

It starts like this:

 

Steve’s face is red, mouth slipping open, eyes wide. He’s frozen to his spot, pinned by the weight of Bucky’s words. 

 

Or rather, it starts like this:

 

Bucky’s face on Steve’s phone screen, face calm and one eyebrow raised as if he’d just stated the most indisputable fact of the universe. 

 

In a way, he has. It’s plain to see, and Steve can recognize that now. The sky is blue, the grass is green.

 

Dear god, Steve is in love with Tony. And his boyfriend knows. A voice in his head, that sounds a lot like Sam, says,  _ your  _ fucking  _ life _ .

 

Of course, Steve shouldn’t be surprised that Bucky picked up on it before he knew it himself. Between Bucky, Sam, Natasha, he's pretty used to having his emotions explained to him before he could even recognize them. 

 

“Uh,” Steve says, ever the picture of eloquence. He wants to smack himself in the face. He’s just ruined  _ everything _ .

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Don't hurt yourself, loser. This ain’t a come-to-Jesus about cheating,” he says through the phone. “‘s not like you can control it.”

 

“Then what is it?” Steve asks hesitantly. He tries not to let the relief show in his expression, even though Bucky can still probably tell. 

 

The screen freezes, suspending the long-haired boy in a pose that should be unflattering; his hair falls in messy waves over his face. Nevertheless, he makes it look effortlessly graceful, as always. Bucky has a way of making Steve feel, even though they’re about the same size, like a big, hulking lug. Steve taps the screen. “Bucky?”

 

The screen unfreezes, and Bucky’s talking again. “Look, Steve, I talked to Stark. And… he’s interesting, but he’s definitely not a bad guy. I can definitely see what’s got you all sweet on ‘im. All I’m sayin’ is, if you want to get closer to him, I’m not gonna stop you. I can see it in your eyes when you pass him in the hall. That’s how you look at me,” Bucky says, and Steve knows he’s telling the truth.

 

Steve has to look away from the screen. “Thank you, Bucky,” Steve says around the lump in his throat, and he genuinely means it, “but whatever feelings I may have for Tony are a moot point by now. He’s never gonna take me back.” Yes, he’s in love with Tony. But Tony doesn’t want him, not enough to get over the crippling fear of hurting him. Steve’s being handed everything he wants, it’s _ right there, _ but he can’t have it.

 

Bucky watches him quietly. When he speaks, it’s a low murmur. “You’re never gonna tell me what happened, huh?”

 

“No. But I can tell you it was mostly my fault. He won’t want me, not anymore.”

 

Bucky purses his lips and nods. “Fine. I will find out eventually.”

 

“Maybe.” Then Steve says dryly, “your connection sucks, by the way.”

 

“It does not! ”Bucky defends hotly. “ _ Your _ connection su-”

 

Steve hits the End Call button with a smirk on his face, relieved beyond measure.

 

* * *

 

It ends like this:

 

They didn’t go to the same school when they met. 

 

Tony was at SHIELD High, of course, only the best of the best for Howard Stark’s son. And SHIELD  _ was  _ the best, only the most talented individuals in New York got accepted. 

 

Steve was going to one of the numerous public schools in New York;  unmemorable. 

 

They meet through Howard Stark. Ironic, but at least that’s one thing good Howard had added to Tony’s life. If nothing else, he met Steve through the bastard.

 

Steve earns a scholarship, one Howard makes up for ‘strategic thinking’ or some bullshit when Steve sends in an application containing a never-before-seen military tactic that Howard sells to the United States Military for a couple hundred thousand.

 

In return, Howard gives him a scholarship.

 

The money the Rogers no longer pay for schooling is extremely useful- they no longer need to worry about affording food- something that becomes even more useful when Steve’s ridiculous growth spurt.

 

Right before the school year started, Howard pulled Tony off the couch and into the foyer, grumbling about how Tony needed to see how a  _ real  _ American looked, how someone who  _ earned  _ his place in the world. Tony didn’t tell his father that he didn’t want to meet another one of the charity cases that always ended up being boring workaholics that had no idea of fun, but it was a close thing.

 

Then he saw Steve. And he was beautiful.

 

Steve would later confess that at the time he was still getting used to his large body and sudden size, but you never would have guessed it by the way Steve had carried himself; confident and tall, straight-backed. His golden hair seemed to shine under the lights of the foyer chandelier, and his eyes were a deeply entrancing blue.

 

Then he’d opened his mouth. 

 

Dear God, was he everything Tony disliked. Looking back, Tony can tell that the uppity-ness was really Steve trying to be polite, and the play-by-the-rules shtick was Steve trying to figure out how to approach the son of a famous billionaire, but Tony had reacted badly, then Steve reacted badly, and they stubbornly stayed in that lingo for a while. Worst of all, they had  _ so many _ classes together. Tony had  _ hated  _ Steve- for about two months. Then Thor’s crazy sibling Loki had tried to friggin’ destroy the school.

 

Present-day Loki is a lot more subtle- well, Loki-subtle, which meant that they slept with anyone crazy enough to let them wrap their legs around ‘em (no judgment, of course), and still yelled about  _ destroying the planet _ and  _ achieving  _ their  _ destiny _ , but ever since they’d joined theatre; that talk was much more accepted there.

 

But at the time, Loki had fallen in with a gang called the Chitauri; who generally wreaked havoc around Manhatten indiscriminately; but especially against places they deemed, “unworthy.”

 

Steve and Tony, plus Thor, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint, had been able to stop them from a takeover between utilizing technology and bodily harm; firmly establishing themselves as protectors of SHIELD High and the borough surrounding it, and then Steve and Tony had set aside their differences and started dating.

 

They were a sickeningly sweet couple. Clint always made gagging noises whenever they kissed, and Natasha, being aromantic, always rolled her eyes when Tony sat in Steve’s lap during lunch.

 

It was perfect. Tony had never thought life could be that good, at least not to him.

 

If popularity was a thing in high school, they were it. The six of them, the Avengers, they were dubbed, became the center of the school's achievements, and subsequently, the school’s social map.

 

Besides fine arts, which none of them but Steve were ever good at, the Avengers dominated athletics, academia, and the lunchroom, sitting at a table in the center of it all, in their own comfortable bubble, as activity radiated from their presences outward.

 

Of course, they had enemies, but love or loathe them, students couldn’t seem to take their eyes off the Avengers. 

 

And Steve and Tony were in the very thick of it, young, but in love.

 

(Tony never told his parents.)

 

One night, they were sneaking back into Stark manor after going for an ice cream ‘date’ that was really more of Tony rambling while Steve watched him with adoring eyes and occasionally shoved ice cream in his mouth and kissed him.

 

It was a good date- too bad it was their last one.

 

“Shh, somebody’s gonna hear us,” Steve had said that day, trying to stifle his laughter. Tony, nearly incapacitated by his giggles, tried to muffle himself against Steve’s biceps.

 

Steve tugged him up into a kiss that wasn’t really a kiss, just the two of them trying to be quiet while losing their fucking minds. In hindsight, Tony can’t even remember what they were laughing about.

 

What he does remember is this; the lights of the living room turning on, and both of them freezing instantly.

 

“ _ What _ is going on here?”

 

Howard Stark, standing in the doorway. Tony shouldn’t have been shocked- life was full of moments just like that, for him, but he was anyway.

 

Tony barely remembered Steve stumbling through a rushed apology, but Howard had simply looked at him at told him to leave and not come back. Tony stood, stock still, and Steve had walked out, head bowed, only pausing to shoot Tony a quick glance.

 

When Steve had left, Howard had launched into a tirade. Tony tended not to pay much attention to his father’s rants, but that one had stuck with him, particularly when Howard had boomed, “You’ve  _ ruined  _ an incredible student, tarnished him like  _ everything else _ you get your hands on. Are you happy now? Because of you, that promising young man will go right back to public school, is this what you wanted?”

 

Yeah, that stuck with him for a while. The words are still rattling in his brain today.

 

Steve didn’t end up losing his scholarship, in any case. Principal Fury liked him enough that he offered to pay Steve’s tuition himself- a real testament to Steve’s character, because Principal Fury barely liked  _ anyone _ .

 

When Tony had heard the news from Natasha, he’d almost burst into tears. Steve had called him, that same day, so excited that he was talking about twenty miles a minute.

 

Tony had murmured some platitude, something like, “That’s great, Steve,” and his boyfriend stopped talking immediately.

 

“Tony? What’s wrong? This is good, right?” Steve had asked through the phone.

 

Tony sighed, lamenting Steve’s optimism. It would break Steve’s heart to hear what Tony had to say, but it would break Tony’s heart more to say it. 

 

But he did say it. “Steve. I think we should break up.”

 

The other end was absolutely silent. Then Steve said loudly; “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

 

“No, you don’t get to do this, Tony.”

 

“I’m still not over what I did to you, Steve!” 

 

“Tony, you know that everything is okay now, so why won’t you drop it ?” 

 

“I almost  _ ruined  _ your whole  _ life _ , Steve!”

 

“Shut the hell up, Tony,” Steve had snarled. “Go to sleep. If you want to break up with me, do it tomorrow, and it had better be for a good goddamn reason.”

 

They argued for the next week. It was public, and it was messy, and everybody got hurt. Over the weekend they screamed at each other over the phone.

 

The last Sunday, Tony texts Steve to come over. 

 

He sits on the bed, facing away from his boyfriend, while Steve pleads with him not to break up with him. 

 

_ He breathes out heavily. Jesus, this is fucking hard. “I think we should break up.” _

 

_ There is a dead silence until Steve says lowly, “I thought I told you I needed a reason." _

 

_ “I’m still not over what I did to you, Steve!” Tony finally whips his head around to stare at him. Steve, just as beautiful as ever, looking like the world is crumbling around him. _

 

_ “Tony, you know that I’ve forgiven you for that, and everything turned out fine, so why won’t you drop it ?” The last part comes out as a growl. _

 

_ “Because it was a fucked up thing to do, Steve!” Tony almost shouts. Then, quieter, he admits: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, my life, or my luck, and I don’t… I want to be with you until I figure it out. I’m so sorry, Steve, but you’ll see: this is for the best.” _

 

_ “Never.” _

 

He ends it. 

 

The next Monday, Tony had taken the coward’s way out. He’d avoided Steve the whole day. He had felt like a complete asshole, the lowest of the low, but it would be worth it, once Steve realized that Tony would only ruin his life. At several points during the day, Tony almost broke down sobbing.

 

Natasha found him, that day, hiding in the bathroom. Even though the stall was locked, she did  _ something  _ and the door flew open. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing, Stark?” she demanded.

 

Tony looked up with bleary eyes. “This is the  _ guy’s  _ room.”

 

“Why is Steve telling me you _ broke up with him? _ And then I find you crying in the bathroom?”

 

“Not crying.”

 

“There had better be a good goddamn explanation for this,” she hissed, red hair flying and eyes livid.

 

“He’s better off without me.”

 

“Get the fuck off your high horse. You’re not powerful enough to ruin Steve’s life, no matter what kind of luck you think you have.

 

Tony sighed. “Leave me alone, Natasha.”

 

She glared at him. “You’re going to regret this,” she warned.

 

“Already do. Get out.”

 

She does, and Tony feels all the more miserable.

 

Tony switches out of Steve’s classes. Steve stops calling after three weeks, stops trying to talk to him in the halls after six. And if Tony’s slowly dying inside, ever since that day, that’s okay. He has other people. Peter Parker, Pepper, and Rhodey. Bruce, when he’s not with Thor. He can deal. He’s fine.

 

The illusion shatters the second he lets Bucky Barnes into his life. He knows it’s a bad idea, that it’ll lead him directly back to Steve, a horrendous outcome. But somehow, he can’t stop himself.

 

* * *

 

What happens is this:

 

Bucky’s month of peace comes to an abrupt end. It’s a Thursday, a totally normal Thursday. In fact, nothing strange at all has happened for at least the past week. After their talk over the phone, he and Steve had pretty much gone back to normal, and he and Tony had gone from ignoring each other in the halls to being downright  _ friendly _ , smiling at each other and saying hi. 

 

And, school’s going great. His grades are up, the ballet is coming along nicely, and for once he’s actually  _ ahead  _ of his homework. And if half the answers are stolen from Sam’s homework, well, that’s just an added bonus. 

 

Life is looking good for Bucky Barnes. Which is why it’s no shock that things go to shit immediately. 

 

 Bucky’s just headed out the door for school when Pierce calls through his office door, “James? Come here, please.”

 

Bucky freezes, the door hanging half open. He glances at the man, mouth dry.

 

Alexander Pierce cuts an imposing figure, even though to any outsider the grin he wears on his face is friendly, and the way he’s relaxed against his chair could be interpreted as casual. 

 

Bucky knows better. Even before he knew his own name, he knew how to read Pierce’s body language.

 

It’s all Bucky can do to not run into the streets. The door is open, and it would be so  _ easy _ , but he doesn’t. HYDRA is everywhere, especially concentrated here, and he doubts even  _ he  _ could make it three steps out of the compound.

 

On top of that, the command, even after all this time, still has some pull deep in his neurons, an itch to  _ obey _ . 

 

So he does.

 

Pierce’s office is spacious, carefully sun-lit so nobody and nothing can see from the outside in. To any passing eye, it looks like the office of any old rising politician. It takes a trained eye to see the mob activity all the other paperwork strains to hide.

 

“You know,” Pierce says conversely, “I don’t think you’ve been appreciative lately of what HYDRA has done for you.”

 

Bucky’s eyes stay rooted to the floor. It’s always better if he doesn’t talk.

 

“Crazy, right? You would think that for someone who’s  _ whole life _ is dependant on HYDRA’s grace, you would see what we’re doing here and  _ beg  _ to help. You used to be the fist of HYDRA, but of course,” Pierce taunts, a wry grin on his face, “you don’t remember that.”

 

Bucky doesn’t move. 

 

“What HYDRA is trying to do,” he continues, “is show the world that they cannot be trusted with their own safety. They call us a mob, a mafia. Soon they’ll see how far our influence actually reaches. And I need you to be  _ completely  _ on-board. Do you understand me?”

 

Bucky’s head stays down. 

 

Pierce gets a fist in his hair,  _ yank _ s his head back. Bucky gasps, blood rushing through his ears. 

 

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Pierce hisses in his ears. “You have  _ nothing  _ and  _ no one  _ without HYDRA. Your parents sold you for their own safety, for HYDRA protection, and  _ we’ve given them that _ . You are a  _ payment _ .

 

“And this?” Pierce taps Bucky’s metal arm, “The limb you lost paying for them?  _ We  _ gave it back to you. Not them. This arm is 100% HYDRA property.  _ You  _ are HYDRA property,  _ Winter _ . I sincerely hope you enjoyed the little break I’ve given you because there’s work to be done.

 

“And your  _ boyfriend _ . How  _ easily  _ you get distracted, how quickly you get sidetracked. I suppose that’s my fault, letting you remain… awake… during this transition period. Unfortunately, we’ve lost our last working chair, so we’ll have to find another way. Just remember that the only thing keeping you from going back to the ice is because you’ve placed yourself close to the Stark boy, maybe the one good thing you’ve done.” Bucky’s blood runs cold. “We can use that,” Pierce says, ignoring Bucky’s rapidly paling face. 

 

“But first, punishment. Why don’t you take a few hours to relax in the cold room?” Pierce says. Bucky, for his part, goes utterly still, allowing Pierce to manhandle him. 

 

Pierce drags him through the hall, heading for the cold room. Bucky lets him. The part of him that’s raging that  _ this isn’t fucking fair, how was he supposed to know it was temporary, how was he supposed to know that Steve would chase him, how was he supposed to know that Tony would be like a fucking magnet, that he’d just  _ keep  _ being drawn in _ \- is far suppressed. Too many times in the cold, maybe, or maybe after a _ whole fucking year _ , his mind still isn’t sound enough to make his own decisions.

 

Or maybe he deserves this. It’s certainly fitting for Winter. 

 

Whatever the reason, Bucky doesn’t fight as Pierce leads him to the cold room, shoves him inside, and locks the door.

 

The cold room is a tiny room, barely bigger than a closet, in the back of the penthouse, that has been modified to lock from the outside. 

 

Inside it, there’s nothing much. It’s empty, really, except for the chair. 

 

That  _ goddamned  _ chair.

 

He’s dared to ask Pierce what the chair is, before, but the man never answers. Bucky doubts it’s for his own peace of mind, more like Pierce is still hiding something, shoved deep within the recesses of Bucky’s mind, and it’s something to do with that fucking chair. Whatever it is, it shakes Bucky right down to his core, sends him spiraling at the sight of it. 

 

And that’s the rub; Bucky is trapped here in this god awful, freezing cold room with that god awful chair that he doesn’t even really remember  _ why  _ he fears it, just that he does. And it’s breaking him to pieces. 

 

And  _ dear god _ , does he fear that chair. He still doesn’t remember most of Russia, but whatever happened must’ve featured that ugly thing heavily. It’s not pretty, for sure. It’s got straps, metal ones, on both arms and legs, one strap going across the chest, and a strange-looking headset that makes him want to vomit just by looking at it. 

 

He’s got nothing. He  _ is  _ nothing, god, he can’t even fight back against the people he’s been living with as long as he can remember. A strangled scream makes its way out of his throat. This is all he fucking has at this point. The ability to scream, and nothing else.

 

Each breath races out of his lungs, and Bucky struggles to hold it in for even  _ two  _ seconds, let fucking alone in for seven, out for eight. Black spots dance across his vision, and he claws desperately at the chair, but where his right just scrabbles uselessly, the left doesn’t shake at all, just delivers hauntingly accurate, brutal precision strikes. Not that it matters, of course, the chair was built specifically to withstand him, but all of a sudden Bucky is consumed by a wave of red-hot hatred and rage.

 

_ This arm is 100% HYDRA property. You are HYDRA property, Winter. _

 

_ You are HYDRA property, Winter. _

 

Pain explodes from his left arm. The floor beneath him doesn’t even dent, unyielding against the force of a metal fist going terminal velocity.

 

Winter ignores it and  _ slam _ s his fist into the floor again, just as fast.

 

The pain makes him double over, but he does it again. He lets himself scream, after the next time, but he does not stop.

 

Winter slams his hand against the floor until the metal starts to crack, then until the plating starts flying off, then until the delicate wiring is exposed.

 

At this point, he’s a writhing, sobbing mess on the floor, but he’s not done yet.

 

He almost passes out, but it will be worth it when he gets this god awful star off his arm.

 

Woozily, with fading vision, Winter raises his hand to his mouth. When he gets his teeth around a good chunk of wires, he almost passes out then and there.

 

With the last of his strength, he rips out the wires of his arm. 

 

The pain is indescribable; every single cell of his body  _ screams  _ in agony: an all-encompassing wave of agony that knocks him straight on his ass. 

 

Winter lasts for about three seconds before black consumes his vision and then he collapses, and his mind goes quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. take a sip of my secret potion (i'll make you fall in love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one you've all been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! This was probably the hardest chapter to write, mostly because I'm really bad at writing feelings and confessions (I'm ace, if you can't tell) so this is probably the chapter that made me get outside my comfort zone the most. That said, I'm actually really proud of how this turned out??????

The beginning of the end, or maybe the end of the beginning, or the start of something completely new, starts with an open door, and a headache.

 

When Bucky wakes up, the door is open, and he’s just coherent enough to thank who _ ever _ the hell is up there that maybe his monumental bad streak  _ could  _ come to an end. Of course, he’s not naive enough to  _ believe  _ that, but it’s a nice thought. 

 

The pain in his metal arm is excruciating, but thank god, not debilitating. His head hurts like a bitch too, but until Bucky gets to somewhere safe, it’ll have to do. New Priority Mission: Get The Hell Out Of Here.

 

When Bucky stumbles out of the cold room, waves of pain emanating from his arm make him have to lean against the wall far more times than is strictly optimal, and every time he prays nobody will hear him when he slams against the walls.

 

But when he turns the corner into the kitchen, he freezes in his tracks because somebody most definitely  _ has. _

 

Brock Rumlow, the same sleazy boy from the party, is sitting in the kitchen like he owns the fucking place, slurping up a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. The noises are absurdly loud and pretty goddamn terrifying, more so than the boy himself.

 

“Heya, Winter,” he sneers around the bowl he’s gulping milk from.

 

Bucky tries not to let his disgust show on his face. The noises are practically suited to a Jurassic World movie. 

 

“Why are  _ you  _ here?” he growls instead. His voice comes out higher than he wanted it to, but the pain in his arm is sending small-but-constant waves of agony to his brain.

 

Brock glances over, and puts down the bowl, thank god. There’s a staring competition between the two boys for about ten seconds, then Rumlow deliberately, slowly, breaks eye contact, staring into his milk like it holds the secret to the goddamn universe. “I’m a new HYDRA recruit.” 

 

“Pierce sent an  _ intern  _ to watch  _ me? _ ” Somehow, Bucky doesn’t quite believe it.

 

Rumlow smiles, but he doesn’t look up from the bowl. “Let’s just say I have some… special talents that HYDRA was quite interested in. Practically yanked me off the streets.”

 

Whatever. He doesn’t have time to unlock New Guy’s backstory. He’s here for one thing; his phone, resting conveniently on the same counter that Rumlow is decimating the poor Cap’n Crunch flakes, so he can get out of here. He  _ needs  _ to find a solution to his busted arm before he deals with anything else.

 

He doesn’t move to stop Bucky, probably because Pierce had stationed him here just to see when Bucky would escape, and also because damaged as he is, Bucky is still a far superior fighter and Brock must have  _ some  _ self-preservation skills.

 

But Rumlow doesn’t miss the chance to call to Bucky’s retreating back, “Good luck finding anyone who’ll touch that arm!” but Bucky just keeps soldiering (hah,  _ so  _ goddamn funny) on. 

 

Pierce’s office is empty, thank God for small mercies. The front door is open, as well. The rest of the way out of the apartment complex is clear, and he makes it onto the street without any trouble. 

 

The sky is dark, though it had been bright out when Bucky had gone into the cold room. The moonlight on his face feels like an illusion, but he doesn’t have time to wonder, no time to think, not if he wants to get out of here before Pierce comes back for round two.

 

Natasha’s apartment is in the next building, but he’s not headed there. He loves Natalia, but going to her with his problems, especially about  _ this- _ would end up with her trying to single-handedly murder everyone in HYDRA, and he doesn’t need any more dead bodies, hers or otherwise.

 

No, he’s not going to Natasha. He dials Steve.

 

\---

 

Because the universe is extremely determined to never let Steve have anything normal in his life, he rolls up twenty minutes after Bucky called him to the anxiety-inducing sight of said boyfriend sitting on the curb as if blood isn’t covering virtually the  _ entire  _ left side of his torso. Go figure.

 

He’s out of the car in seconds. “What the hell happened to you?!”

 

Bucky doesn’t flinch, just meet’s Steve’s eyes with his calm, icy blue ones. “Get back in the car, Steve.”

 

“Did Pierce do this to you? I’ll  _ kill  _ him-” Red covers Steve’s vision.

 

Bucky storms past him, hooking Steve’s arm in the process. “Come on, Steve.”

 

“I swear, I’m gonna-“ Bucky whirls around and jabs a finger at Steve’s chest. The movement is awkward since he can’t use his left arm, but he manages to get the point across.

 

“Steven Grant Rogers, if you get yourself shot I will  _ kill you _ myself, and that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep flapping around, so  _ get in the goddamn car. Quietly,”  _ Bucky whisper-shouts.

 

Despite the fact that he’s losing blood by the minute, Steve doesn’t doubt that Bucky will actually make good on his promise if he doesn’t do what he says, so he allows himself to be pushed back into his car. “Okay, alright, I’m going,” he says, arms raised in a pacifying gesture that only serves to make Bucky scowl deeper.

 

They start driving, leaving the apartment complex behind. They manage to go one block before the seatbelt indicator starts beeping. 

 

Another block, and Bucky is starting to look like he might seriously rip out the dash. 

 

Another block, and Steve just barely manages to deflect the punch speeding toward his indicator panel. 

 

“Hey, Bucky, do you, by chance, need any help strapping in?”

 

The brunette glares from under his hair. “No,” he says shortly.

 

Then, to Steve’s absolute horror, Bucky uses his  _ metal  _ arm to strap himself in, sucking in his breath in pain. Steve makes an aborted protest noise, but Bucky’s already strapped in. He looks up with a triumphant expression, but the blond’s gaze is laser-focused on the metal arm. Which is now  _ letting off honest-to-god smoke. _

 

“Jesus, Bucky, your arm is smoking!”

 

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. “Yes, Steve, excellent observation skills,” he says impatiently. “That’s why I called. I need your help to fix it.”

 

“Ah,” Steve says, hesitant, “shouldn’t we go to someone who… knows how to fix metal arms?”

 

Bucky scoffs, reaching with his right to grab at wires on his left. “I know how to fix this hunk of bolts. I just need to-” Bucky winces, but of course, is too stubborn to stop, so Steve’s not surprised when something goes wrong.

 

It probably could’ve been comical, the face Bucky makes when something he’s fiddling with sparks and shocks him, but unfortunately, Steve is in love with this idiot, and Bucky has certainly endured more dumbassery from Steve than the other way around, so Steve holds back the retort building behind his teeth.

 

“Ah!  _ Shit _ !” Bucky curses fervently.

 

“Right. You  _ don’t  _ know what you’re doing. Know anyone who does?”

 

“I was maybe kinda hoping you would?” Bucky says with a sudden air in his tone. Steve looks over just as Bucky passes out. 

 

“Of course,” Steve grumbles, passing the speed limit. “Neither of us knows what we’re doing here. Plan B, then.

 

“I can’t help you, Bucky. But we both know someone who can,” he murmurs, shifting the course to Stark Manor.

 

\---

 

Tony’s elbow-deep in the programming for a new AI when he gets a text from the one number he never expected to get one from again; Steven Grant Rogers. 

 

It’s a simple one, really just a sentence or two. Nonetheless, Tony’s heart starts doing double time.

 

**DO NOT CALL:** need ur help. eta 10 minutes

 

Classic Steve, honestly. 

 

Tony’s not proud of it, but he spends the ten minutes alternating between staring into the mirror trying to tame his curls, and deliberating over shutting off all the lights and pretending he isn’t home.

 

The lights are still on when JARVIS shows him Steve pulling up, but don’t mistake that for Tony  _ caring _ or anything. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care about Steve Rogers. He’s just… intrigued.

 

Tony probably takes too long to open the door, because Steve lays it on the horn for about three seconds. Asshole.

 

Tony marches up to Steve’s car, hobbling a little because of his cast, shivering from the cool night air. “are you insane, Rogers? If Howard weren’t away right now-“

 

His ex looks up, and Tony cuts off his sentence. He instantly remembers that this is basically the first time he’s really getting a good look at Steve, aside from when Steve picked him up with his broken leg. Steve’s expression is grim. “Bucky’s hurt, Tony. I know you’ve been talking to each other- I need to know if you can fix his arm.”

 

Tony stares for about three seconds, but Steve just gazes back his calmly, as if his boyfriend isn’t probably grievously injured. Worry bubbles up behind Tony’s ribs. Sue him, he’s worried about Bucky. He doesn’t want the guy to  _ die. _

 

In the end, Tony whirls around, sniffs, and says, “Fine. What’re you waiting for? God, the Terminator is probably dying, c’mon.”

 

Not waiting to see if Steve follows, he slams the door open, and when he hears the labored footsteps behind him, he starts for his lab, sending glances back from time to time.

 

The sight feels surreal. Steve Rogers is in his house again, the lights glancing off that angular face, and god, has he gotten  _ bigger?  _ It shouldn’t be possible, but Steve’s shoulders seem to be broader than ever. Luckily, Cap doesn’t notice him staring, too busy oscillating between marveling at the dumbass antiques that pave the halls of Stark Manor, encased in elegant white, like he’s never been here before, and frowning worriedly down at the boy stumbling next to him with those beautiful blue eyes Tony’s tried so hard to forget.

 

Leaning practically his whole weight on Steve is Bucky, and he looks the opposite of  _ okay.  _ Barnes’ brown hair hangs in front of his face, but the skin beneath it is flushed an unhealthy shade of red. He’s dragging his feet and stumbling through the corridor, and at one point, Steve is just  _ carrying  _ him.

 

They arrive at Tony’s lab, and he decides there’s been enough awkward silence. Or maybe he’s just awkward. Either way, he starts talking.

 

“Just… put him on the chair.”

 

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve says, sparing a second to glance around. “You really think you can fix his arm?”

 

“Pshhh. Can  _ I  _ fix his arm? What do you think I- holy  _ shiiit... _ That’s a fucked-up arm,” Tony says when Steve’s carefully places Bucky on the chair and he gets a view of the full damage on the arm.

 

Stev huffs a laugh, though he doesn’t sound amused. “You don’t say,” he says wryly, looking up at Tony from where he’s crouched down over his boyfriend.

 

And god-- it’s still a heady experience to be pinned under those sky-blue eyes.  _ Focus, Stark.  _

 

Tony grabs a screwdriver, then races back to Bucky’s arm, brain immediately cataloging the possible issues with the mechanics.

 

Except-- Steve’s in the way. “Cap? Buddy? Move,” Tony commands, already engrossed in the metalwork. He’s pries one panel open, giving him a pretty limited view, but from what he’s seeing, busted as it is, this is some  _ advanced  _ stuff. He can’t  _ wait  _ to get a proper view. He kinda wishes Peter was here, he’s better at the biology stuff than Tony is, and Peter’s a fantastic lab partner, and aside from Bruce, the kid is the only person in Tony’s (somewhat limited) circle that understands the beauty of the tech in front of him. 

 

Beside him, Steve stiffens. “What? No.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says with raised eyebrows, not looking up from what he’s doing, “do  _ you _ want to perform the incredibly advanced bio-engineering operation? No? Didn’t think so.”

 

Steve’s shoulders hike up, no doubt readying for an argument, but he gets cut off before he can speak. 

 

“Don’t. Fight,” mumbles the lump of brown hair and pale skin attached to the arm Tony is working on.

 

“Ah! Look who decided to join us,” Tony snarks, trying not to let his relief show. “Sleeping Beauty, alive and well.” 

 

Steve scowls at him. “Tony…” he said warningly. 

 

“The hell… did I just say,” Bucky slurs, somehow managing to sound annoyed. 

 

“Not fighting, Buck,” Steve reassures. “Just worried about you.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Back the hell up ‘n let the man do his job.” 

 

Steve backs the hell up.

 

Tony grins. “Knew there was a reason I liked you.”

 

“You’re sure it’s not ‘cuz ‘a the metal arm?” 

 

“A guy’s not allowed to have preferences?”

 

Bucky snorts tiredly. Without further ado, Tony peels another the panel open, and gets to work.

 

\---

 

Steve’s not so sure this is a good idea, after all.

 

He’s not regretting bringing Bucky to Tony, because that arm was a no-go. But he is regretting staying in the room, for reasons mostly surrounding the heat stirring in his insides as he watches his ex-boyfriend and his current boyfriend interact with each other.

 

Tony is, just as Steve remembers, beautiful, and Steve is getting  _ serious _ deja vu watching him whirl around the workshop, plucking and discarding tool after tool. His wavy, almost-black hair is a mess of curls, and long eyelashes frame those warm brown eyes that never fail to make Steve feel like he’s just walked into a sauna. Tony’s the smallest person in the room, but he makes up for it in sheer personality and a steady stream of chatter that actually looks to be calming Bucky down. Steve had almost forgotten how  _ much  _ he missed Tony, but it pressed on his heart as he watched them.

 

Of course, Tony had broken up with him, and that little fact hurt him, every day, but a man was allowed to  _ look _ .

 

On the opposite end of the spectrum was Bucky. If Tony made Steve feel hot, Bucky always made him feel like he’d been dunked in an ice-cold pool and left breathless. As always, effortlessly beautiful, from the long, gorgeous hair, to the square jawline, to his icy blue eyes. Bucky was charming and graciously good-looking even when he had a busted up arm and a hyper-active engineer fluttering about him.

 

Together, they blended into something of Steve’s dreams. Hot and cold, opposites but so alike. The two brunettes kept up an easy banter, trading insults and flirtations in the same breath. 

 

“Christ, this is beautiful. What’s a thing like this doing on a guy like you?”

 

“Big talk for the buy six inches from my face,” Bucky shot back.

 

Tony’s face stretched into a leer. “Only for you, Barnes. Only for you.”

 

Steve took out his phone to snap a picture, so he could draw the scene later, only to look up and realize they were talking about  _ him. _

 

“There was this one time,” Bucky said with a smirk, “Steve was taking me to the movies, right?” It might’ve been a trick of light, but Steve could’ve sworn he saw Tony’s face fell. Hope swirled within his gut before he mercilessly crushed it again. No point in getting worked up over something that was gone. “And some guy in front of us turned around and like, dumped his soda on me, and so Steve was like ‘What the fuck, man?’ and I was like ‘Steve, leave it,’ but the dumbass wouldn’t listen, so he goes and challenges this like, _ 6’7” _ douchebag to a fight, and he  _ wins,  _ but he gets a black eye and a sprained wrist, so I was like, ‘Yeah, defending my honor is cool and all, but was it really worth it?’ And he goes, ‘I’m actually not sure anymore,’ like he isn’t in need of  _ medical help _ .”

 

Tony’s practically bent over laughing at this point, cheeks flushing red. “Oh my- god, Steve, you did that?” he asks, using Steve’s first name for the first time since they broke up.

 

Steve blushes and pouts. Yeah, okay, he did do that, but in his defence they’d been watching an action movie, and he was feeling badass in the moment, so it seemed like the logical next step.

 

Of course, saying this out loud would result in his immediate death by embarrassment, so Steve just stares at one corner, ignoring the encore of laughter from the peanut gallery, and tries to get his blush under control. Both of those gazes on him at once… it’s, ah… well, it’s  _ hot _ .

 

Eventually, Tony finds the main problems, and the wiring is fine, he explains, but the casing is busted to hell. He’s gonna need to weld a few replacement plates onto the arm. 

 

“No funny business in my lab,” Tony declares, wagging a finger, before he walks out, which is ironic, because Steve can definitely remember doing some business in this very lab that was  _ pretty  _ funny. In fact, he’s sitting on a chair in which some goddamn  _ hilarious  _ business occured, but… 

 

Steve’s torn out of his train of thought by Bucky suddenly speaking.

 

“He’s pretty swell, ain’t he.”

 

When Steve looks up, Bucky is gazing at him cattily. Steve starts thinking about his next words carefully. “Tony? Yeah, he is,” he says warily.

 

“Makes you wonder why a fella would ever break up with him.”

 

Ah. “If you must know,  _ he  _ broke up with  _ me. _ ”

 

There’s a pause for about five seconds.

 

“Wait,” Bucky says with a furrow between his brows, “really?”

 

Steve doesn’t look at him. “Yeah. Guess he realized what a punk he was dating and got out quick.”

 

“That’s not true,” Tony says from the doorway, where he’s apparently been hiding. 

 

Steve’s heart seizes because holy crap, Tony  _ heard him.  _ Tony stares at him. Steve stares back.

 

The mutual staring is interrupted by Bucky prompting, “Then why?”

 

Tony looks away, says, “Because I was the reason Steve lost his scholarship.”

 

Steve keeps staring at him, clenching his jaw. Bucky picks up the conversation before Steve can argue. “How’s that?”

 

“Because of things  _ out of his control _ ,” Steve bites out. 

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, right. If you hadn’t known me, you wouldn’t have lost your scholarship.”

 

“But he’s on scholarship right now,” Bucky says bemusedly. 

 

“Exactly,” Steve says, seizing on the opportunity. “It doesn’t even matter what happened, because I’m still on a scholarship. The whole argument doesn’t even matter!”

 

“No, the whole argument doesn’t matter because you’re already dating someone else,” Tony insists. The tension in the room skyrockets, and Steve can tell they’re going to rehash all the ugly arguments of the week before their breakup.

 

“I dunno,” Bucky says, breaking the tension. Both Steve and Tony swivel to face him. “I think the argument is still pretty relevant.”

 

The feeling that floods through Steve is Pretty Fucking Incredible as he looks at his boyfriend in shock. 

 

Bucky blushes, but his expression stays in a determined set. “Listen, Tony. We all know you and Steve are still in love with each other-”

 

Tony tries to interrupt here, but Bucky steamrolls over him determinately. God, Steve realizes, not for the first time, he  _ loves  _ his boyfriend. Staring into Tony’s eyes, Bucky insists. “You are. Don’t lie to me.  _ And that’s okay.  _ What’s  _ not  _ okay is you two letting each other go because of  _ me. _ ”

 

Wait. “Bucky,” Steve says belatedly, “you’re not at fault here.”

 

“Kinda feels like I am, Stevie,” Bucky answers wryly.

 

Tony swore. “That’s not true- you came  _ after  _ we broke up, there’s no way you could be the cause-”

 

“Yeah, but I’m the reason you never made up.”

 

“Bucky-” Steve tries. It feels like his chest is compressing into itself.  _ This  _ is why he never wanted to talk to Bucky about him and Tony.

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “There’s a simple solution to all these hurt feelings,” he says. Icy eyes flick slowly from Tony to Steve. “We just have to… share.”

 

After about ten seconds in which everyone processes what Bucky just said, he’s met with protests.

 

“ _ Whoa _ , Bucky, I don’t think-”

 

“You don’t even  _ like  _ me that way? That’s a  _ terrible  _ idea!”

 

Bucky purses his lips, hands on his hips. “It’s not a hard concept to grasp,” he says exasperatedly. “I want to kiss both of you. You two both want to kiss each other. At least one of you,” he looks at Steve, “wants to kiss me.”

 

Steve’s face is hot, and a glance at Tony reveals him to be in a similar situation, which is actually really cute. Tony splutters, “I- what- you-”

 

Bucky turns to Steve and, apparently out of patience, demands, “Kiss him, Steve.”

 

Steve blinks once, twice, then the blood floods his face. “Wh- what?” He breathes.

 

Tony makes a noise of protest, but Steve avoids looking at him. Bucky glares at him, dead serious. “Do it,” his boyfriend insists.

 

“Bucky, I don’t think-”

 

“Tony,” Bucky says deadpan, “do you want to kiss Steve.” It’s not really a question.

 

“Of course, I do,” Tony snaps, “but I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s life.”

 

Before he realizes he’s even moved, Steve has Tony flush against his body. Admittedly, a distracting position, but Steve pushes those thoughts to the back. Staring hard into Tony’s eyes. 

 

His mouth is dry. “You could never ruin my life,” he insists, then Steve presses his lips to Tony’s, feeling the other boy swallow a protest against his lips.

 

The kiss is… wow. It’s somehow exactly how he remembered and completely new. Tony tastes like mint and salt, an intoxicating combo. Steve grins against Tony’s mouth. God, he  _ missed  _ this.

 

“Wow,” Tony breathes when they separate. Steve is like 80% sure his own eyes are popping out of his face.

 

“Wonderful,” Bucky pronounces cheerfully. All of a sudden he seems to sag, as if a huge weight pressed onto his shoulders. “My job is done here.”

 

Then he passes out.

 

The high bursts immediately. Steve curses, loudly, both him and Tony scrambling towards Bucky. Honestly, how are these boys even  _ real _ .

 

\---

 

Tony carefully places the last metal plate into place, completing Bucky’s arm. “Alright, I think that’s good,” he says, twisting around to smile nervously at Steve.

 

The blond grins and hugs Tony around his waist, which,  _ hello  _ abs. Tony melts into the embrace. “ Thank you. You’re amazing, Tony.” He presses a kiss to the side of Tony’s neck. The warmth in Tony’s chest grows hotter.

 

Tony blushes. “Yeah, sure,” he babbles. “Uh, Bucky should be waking up soon.”

 

“That’s great,” Steve yawns.

 

“Uh,” Tony says. God, he feels so  _ awkward.  _ And the stupid warm feeling in his chest. Ugh. “You can… lie down if you want,” he points to the couch in the corner of the couch.

 

Steve’s arms tighten around him. “Only if you sleep too, Tony.” Tony can  _ hear  _ the frown in his voice.

 

“Sure, sure,” Tony says soothingly. Steve’s voice is doing that thing when he gets tired where it sounds like it’s been dipped in honey that makes Tony helpless every time. Lordy, it’s like Steve hasn’t changed at all since they broke up. He’s so  _ giddy  _ to have him back.

 

Steve’s arms stay firmly wrapped around him during the trek to the couch, and while they’re curling up on it, as if he’s scared Tony will disappear when he lets go.

 

He doesn’t mean too, honestly, Tony was planning on sneaking off to work on an update to one of Peter’s robots, but the circle of Steve’s arms is warm, and he ends up drifting off. Just before Tony drops off, Steve presses a kiss to his head and murmurs, “I’m glad I got you back, Tony. ‘Night.”

 

\---

 

Bucky wakes up, for the third time today, and honestly, he’s sick of it. 

 

He doesn’t open his eyes for a minute, hoping to trick himself back into dreaming. It doesn’t work, obviously. He’s too cold to go to sleep. So he opens his eyes, taking a look around the lab. It’s something like 2 a.m., according to the clock on the walls. 

 

It takes him a couple seconds to find Steve and Tony, which makes him panic a bit, but he spots them eventually.

 

Bathed in a soft blue light, they’re snuggled together on the couch. Tony’s head lolls against Steve’s chest, and he’s letting out soft snores. Bucky lets a small smile grace his face, gazing over his hard work.

 

The snoring stops, and Tony’s eyes slide open, meeting Bucky’s from across the room. He seems half-awake, but he smiles tiredly and gestures Bucky over, pointing to his lap.

 

It’s not a declaration of undying love, but Bucky blushes anyway, flushing all over.

 

He slides off the chair, padding quietly over to the couch. Stopping for a second to study his handiwork, Bucky crawls onto the couch, taking care not to shake it so much that he wakes his sleeping boyfriends. (Plural!) He drapes himself over their laps, hair pooling underneath his cheek, relishing in the warmth that encompasses his freezing self. Tony seems to be content, and the snoring resumes.

 

It’s not until that moment when he realizes his arm isn’t hurting anymore.

 

After all the passing out he’s done today, Bucky isn’t even close to tired. He pulls out his phone, scrolls down his Instagram feed and snaps Natasha until he feels Steve slide his hands into his hair, sun’s weak, early-morning rays casting a pale pink around the room through the window. 

 

Bucky and his boyfriend share a quiet smile, then turn their gazes to their other boyfriend, still snoring.

 

In their own bubble of warmth, Bucky forgets about school in the morning, forgets the assignments he’s probably gonna have to steal from Sam, forgets about fucking HYDRA, and just revels in the peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fluff intensifies*  
> my tumblr is now @licencetoargue so come scream at me lmao  
> one chapter left!!! this will be the first multi-chapter fic i've *actually* finished!!! I'm so proud of me.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao  
> ~kudos n comments inspire me~  
> check out my tumblr @whoopace-kosi


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